


Sam Meets the Avengers

by SmutLover



Series: Use Your Words 'Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, LSV, POV Sam Wilson, Team Bonding, Team as Family, handwaving starts at CATWS, i suck at titles too, no smut sorry, no woobies were harmed, woobiewoobiewoobie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutLover/pseuds/SmutLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Sam Wilson met the Avengers and the support staff, brought in an assassin, kept several women from murdering Tony Stark, and found a family. But he is not their shrink. No. He isn't. Shut up, Tony. Or, as Sam puts it most days, how in hell did he get roped into this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captain Steven G. Rogers, MoH VC etc

Sam just wants it known, in the end, it was all Captain America's fault. Really. His own dumbass desire to help everybody was completely incidental, no matter what his Momma says. It didn't have anything to do with hero worship or Cap singlehandedly desegregating the Army, or how he saved Sam's Momma in Harlem from an alien space whale, or a desire for another adrenaline rush, or anything. Really.

It was a nice quiet morning, and he was running on the Mall, like he did most mornings. Nation's capitol, quiet before rush hour started, sun coming up, you could almost smell the flowers along the reflecting pool, and it was nice and quiet. Then some idiot white boy blew past him in a full sprint. Sam hoped he'd find the guy around the next corner nursing a pulled hamstring or a twisted ankle, and he was gonna jog right on past, was NOT gonna stop and help, medic training be damned, no way, nuh uh.

“On your left” his fine black ass.

Second time idiot white boy blew past him, Sam had one of those aha moments they talk about, and began to suspect he knew who the guy was. Which kept him from clotheslining the guy at the third “on your left”.

The wind sprint at the end was a dumb idea, but dammit, Captain America.

He was panting under a tree near the capitol building when Cap came up and offered him a hand. And, you know, Captain America was all heroic and everything, but Sam wondered for a moment about whether anyone had given a shit about Steve Rogers' mental state. And hey, look at him, a VA counselor! (Okay, so maybe some of this was Riley's fault. There was another idiot white boy. “Maybe when you're done with the adrenaline rush, you could become a shrink. You're propping up half our unit already, and every rescue we've ever had.” and, when he got out, he remembered that, and now he's trying to figure out how to get Captain America into a support group for vets.)

“Musta freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing.” Oops. Sam could see him withdraw, shut down, turn away. Damn. “It's your bed, right?” He and all his vets agreed that beds felt weird after a tour in Iraq or the 'Stans. And there it was. Connection. Common ground. He tried to keep it on the down low, be mellow. “If you wanna come visit me down at the VA, make me good in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

Then Rogers got tagged for exfil and hopped into a 'Vette driven by a smoking hot redhead who claimed she was looking for a fossil. Nice. She flirted at him a bit. He flirted back a bit, because he wasn't dead. He might be a little bit in love.

.....-

Sam didn't expect to see Rogers at the VA, unless the guy showed up in uniform to visit the wards. But he looked up during Group a couple days later, and there he was. Leading, Sam was so damn smooth he managed to not yell “LOOK CAP! WE'RE ALL THE SAME UNDER THE UNIFORMS!” and gave him a small nod before going back to the discussion.

Later, in the hall after they chatted, well, he had Serious Concerns. He was doing what he could, but Rogers was gonna have to meet him halfway and he didn't have much hope for that, considering what views of mental illness and shellshock had been in the 1940s.

And then Rogers and the redhead turned up at his back door, one morning after his run, battered and dirty, and asked for help. Well, what was he supposed to do? It was Captain America!


	2. SHIELD Agent Natasha Romanov, Black Widow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once we get through the events of Winter Soldier and on to the rest of the team it gets a lot less predictable. I promise.

After Rogers and Romanov showered and ate, there were explanations, and speculation, and discussion, and the very idea of Nazis taking over the world's leading intelligence agency, well. Hang on, he had to get something. 

“Consider it a resume.” he told Rogers, handing over the files. 

“Is this Babylon? That was you?” Of course she knew where the picture of him and Riley had been taken, at a glance. Sam began to believe she was smarter than she was good looking and that? That right there was worrisome. 

“You got out for a good reason” Cap says, and instead of babbling thanks for the desegregation thing, Sam said something glib about Captain America needing his help. 

Ugh. He was embarrassing himself. 

When he explained where the last EXO-Falcon unit was at Fort Meade, Steve immediately looked at Natasha, who did this intimidating hair flip and shrug combo. 

Steve split them up; Sam and Natasha to steal the Falcon wings, and Steve to stay in DC and 'scout the terrain'. 

After a nap while waiting for the cover of darkness, Sam followed Natasha into Fort Meade. Six fences (two with razorwire), three gates, a couple locked doors, and finally a vault. As Natasha picked the lock, Sam had to ask, “do you have a purse?” 

Natasha gave him an odd look. “Not at the moment…?” 

“I had to ask because I really feel like I should be carrying your purse for you. You just let me know if you want me to do that.” 

She tossed her head back and laughed, then gave him the first genuine grin he'd seen from her. Then she pulled open the door, and they were golden. 

He might be a little bit terrified. 


	3. The Winter Soldier

Motherfucker RIPPED THE STEERING WHEEL OUT OF HIS CAR. WHILE HE WAS DRIVING DOWN THE PARKWAY. 

Then it got worse. 

He can't even. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be posting the chapters running along with CATWS in the next two days; after that it'll be a chapter every day or so. The further out from the movie, the longer the chapters get.


	4. SHIELD Deputy Director Maria Hill

After a mythical Soviet-era assassin turns out to not only be real, but Captain America's dead best friend from 1945, well. In the paddy wagon, Sam demanded medical help for Natasha, who was bleeding WAY too much for his peace of mind. One of the guards went ninja on the other. Some cattle-prod thing, kick in the face, the works. Then he – she, SHE pulls off the helmet, complained that it was squishing her brain, and gave him a cool once-over. 

“Who's this guy?” 

While Sam makes with the bandages on Natasha, Steve casually breaks out of the ginormous cuff-things they had his arms in, and Ninja Lady casually cuts a hole in the floor with what looks like a roadside flare, and they are gone like smoke. Sneaky smoke. 

Sam is just, maybe, beginning to understand why Steve Rogers is so horribly bad with women. 


	5. SHIELD Director Colonel Nicholas Fury

They wind up at an abandoned park service dam facility, because of course they do. And there in a hospital bed is the dead guy of the hour, rattling off a list of truly impressive injuries and explaining how he faked his death with blowfish guts or some shit, because of course he did. Natasha is still upright, which makes Sam wonder if he's the only baseline human in this merry band of lunatics, but he doesn't ask. Some people are touchy about that stuff, and damn if he really wants to know anyway. 

Steve and Fury have a throw-down over how far up – and down – the Hydra infestation goes at SHIELD and exactly how much scorched earth needs a match set to it. Steve is all for taking down everything, Fury wants to take out the helicarriers and key personnel and call it good. 

Hill trades eye-rolls with Sam; she seems like his kinda people. Radiates competence, he'd bet one of his Momma's pies she had military in her background somewhere. 

Sam hears his name and tries to tune back in; Fury's glaring at him, which is surprisingly effective given the missing eye and all. Hell with it. “Don't look at me. I do what he does, just slower.” Sam's torn. Half of him wants to give Fury a high five, because it's not often a brother gets that high on the food chain in a government agency. But on the other hand, Hydra. Yeah. He'll settle for not dope slapping the guy. In the end, Steve and Fury compromise (ha!) and decide to take down the helicarriers and publish all the incriminating data they have on the internet. That includes putting it on Stark's servers where no one will be able to remove it except Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Natasha just happens to have a way into the most protected servers on the planet, because of course she does. Jarvis, whoever the hell he is, IT? likes her. 

Two black dudes, two women, and Captain America against entrenched terrorists using three helicarriers running kill programs written by a sociopath Nazi who'd uploaded himself into a computer in the 1970s, and by all accounts was insane BEFORE he trusted his psyche to magnetic storage. 

Oh yeah. Gonna be great. 


	6. Tony fucking Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You're a shrink, right? The Avengers could use a shrink. We are the most dysfunctional bunch of assholes you will ever meet. Plus we can use more air support with Thor gone half the time.”

Sam was dozing in the chair next to Steve's hospital bed when the door was jerked open and Tony Stark burst into the room. (After Hill and Natasha got done telling Sam about Steve's first awakening, and Sam had gotten done laughing, they all agreed letting him wake up alone was a bad idea.) Natasha had warned Sam that Stark was likely to show up when least expected. 

“Oh, it's you.” Sam leaned back into his chair again. His back did not need any more surprises. 

Stark surveyed the room, then pulled off his sunglasses. “Is this an iPod? That's… that's hurtful. It makes my soul weep. I'll send over a StarkPlayer, better security on those, and they aren't… one of those things.” 

Why did people think Tony Stark was selfish and arrogant? For crying out loud. “We couldn't call you, man. Anything we did would have tipped our hand and warned them we were coming. Natasha has some super-spy mind meld thing going with Hawkeye, and even then all he could do was pull some asses out of the fire.” 

Stark paced some, hands in the pockets of his zillion dollar suit. “Sam Wilson, right? VA guy, with the wings?” 

Natasha had mentioned that Stark was 'surprisingly sneaky' and to be treated with caution. “Uh, yes?” 

“Thanks for the save yesterday, with the Insight thing and the helicarriers and all that. Of course I was a target, but, anyway. Thanks.” Stark was roaming the room, poking at medical equipment and reading vitals off assorted bits of equipment. 

“No problem.” 

“Please tell me Fury isn't dead, because I want to kick his ass for what he did with the repulsor technology I allowed SHIELD to use.” 

“I don't think he knew about the Hydra thing until right at the end.” 

“That alone deserves an ass kicking.” 

Sam kind of agreed, so he didn't say anything. 

Stark came to rest at the foot of Steve's bed, looking down into his face like it held the secret to cold fusion. In a quiet, intense, completely different voice, he asked, “It was James Barnes who did this?” 

Sam wasn't sure what Steve wanted known. Or what had gone out on the net. But it was Howard Stark's kid asking, and there was history there. “Steve said it was.” 

Stark nodded thoughtfully, then turned all 200 IQ points on Sam. He could swear he felt Stark's eyes boring into the back of his skull. Then it passed and Stark flipped the manic switch again. “Right. I've got movers over at DuPont packing up what's left of Steve's apartment and moving it to his place in the Tower. I know he's going to want to track down Barnes, but he needs to recover first, and he might as well do it in a place that has resources to help him. I've got JARVIS searching for traces of Hydra and Barnes. Lean on him to get his ass to New York.” 

“Have you MET him?” Lean on Steve. Oh yeah. Because Steve was so biddable. 

That got a chuckle. “Point, but seriously. Hydra's gonna come looking for him and the Tower is the safest place for him. I've got my contractors working on an apartment and office for you, so if you come up with him after he gets out of the hospital, I can scan you for a new wing pack and you can pick some furnishings or whatever.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“You're a shrink, right? The Avengers could use a shrink. We are the most dysfunctional bunch of assholes you will ever meet. Plus we can use more air support with Thor gone half the time.” 

This guy was- “I can't up and move to New York! I've got classes in the fall, and my job, and-” 

“No, yeah, I've got you transferred to NYU and the VA's ready to transfer you to the Harbor whenever you're ready.” Stark tossed down a business card next to the iPod. “Call me when you're ready to move, JARVIS will send some guys over, stock groceries in your apartment, that kind of thing.” 

Sam just gaped at him. 

Stark gave him another one of those split second really intense looks. “You're all over the news, you know. YouTube, Instagram, you name it. There are fan sites going up already; you appear to be the first dark-skinned superhero and portions of the internet have lost their minds. You should see Tumblr. The goggles? Nice, but didn't do much to hide your face, especially from people who know you already. Once word gets out you're running with Captain America, throwing in with us may look like a better idea. Live with it a while, think it over. JARVIS has been monitoring the 'net and the response to you is pretty impressive, it’s all positive except for the racist assholes. Oh, and your mother says she's gonna ground you for the next year. I can’t wait to meet her.” He put his sunglasses back on, shot a peace sign, and swept out dramatically, leading with his chin. 

“Who the hell is Jarvis?” Sam asked the empty room. 

.....-

By afternoon Steve was well enough to leave the hospital. Or, in Sam's opinion, well enough to convince the doctors he'd be absolutely impossible to deal with if they kept him another night. Since Natasha was the only one with a still-functioning vehicle, they wound up piling into it to get Steve over to Sam's place. 

“You know,” Sam told them from where he sat sideways in the back seat, “I helped save the world a couplea days ago. I should get some respect and dignity. Not the back seat of a sports car.” 

Natasha waved a hand at him. “Eh, whatever. Where were you for the space aliens, huh?” 

“Don't make me laugh, my ribs aren't set yet.” Steve told them both. 

They got him settled in on Sam's couch, with the cable remote, a StarkTablet, and Natasha to glare him into behaving. Sam jumped back into Natasha's car (apparently it was okay for him to drive it if she wasn't in it) and did a quick run over to the VA to meet with the evening support group that he led. 

When he walked in, they all stood and applauded. It was the most sarcastic standing ovation he'd ever seen. “Come on. Captain America showed up at my door and asked for help. What was I supposed to do?” They all booed, and someone handed him coffee, and instead of going to the podium to lead the group, he sat down with them. Tonight he was going to be the one sharing. He owed them that much. And, to be honest, the past week had been pretty surreal. 

.....-

When he got home, Sam waited until Natasha left, then dropped into an easy chair across from the couch Steve was holding down. “I hate your friend.” 

“What? I thought you and Tasha-” 

“Natasha is way, WAY too much woman for me, but she's great. No. I'm talking about Tony fucking Stark.” 

Steve snorted, winced, held his ribs. “Who told you Stark was my friend?” 

“He did. When he built an apartment for you in his building, then turned around and started building one for your sidekick. You got any idea what rent goes for in midtown these days?” 

Steve shook his head. “Stark likes to throw money at things, it doesn't mean anything.” 

“If it was a matter of throwing money, Stark would set you up in your very own brownstone in Brooklyn, not build you an apartment in the very same building he lives in.” 

“Maybe. What'd he do this time?” 

“Motherfucker was RIGHT.” 

Steve laughed outright, clutching his ribs again. “Yeah, he's pretty insufferable that way. First time I met him, I wanted to punch him through a wall. What's he right about this time?” 

“Moving to New York.” 

“What?” Steve looked as dumbfounded as Sam's ever seen him, which is saying something, given the last couple days. 

“Yeah, when he checked on you. He's building me an office and an apartment, enrolled me at NYU in the fall, and has a VA transfer set up.” 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now we're back to punching him through a wall. I'm really sorry, Sam. I'll talk to him, get it all straightened out.” 

“No, see, that's not the annoying part. The annoying part? I went to my group tonight, right? I have lost all credibility with them. Saw me zooming around on the news, rescuing Captain America and some shit. After that, telling these guys that wanting a normal, quiet life is okay? No way in hell they're believing me.” It sucked. He'd meant every damn word he'd ever said to them, but it was all shot to hell. They were kind, they were supportive, and now half of them were wishing they could get back in, too, instead of making peace with their current lives. DAMN it. 

“Oh. Wow. Is there anything I could do? Talk to them, maybe?” 

Sam shook his head. Steve really did not get how the regular military still idolized him. Captain America showing up – or hell, even Steve Rogers – giving a talk on 'it's okay to live a quiet life at home' after he went back into the fight after SEVENTY YEARS IN A GLACIER? They'd believe him less than they believed Sam. “Only thing that'd fix this is taking down every bit of evidence of my involvement and giving them all selective amnesia.” 

“We could probably do that, but it wouldn't be terribly ethical. Or, you know, good for them.” 

Sam wasn't sure he was kidding, given Natasha's skillset. He was NOT asking. “So I guess we're both moving to New York.” 

Sam hadn't known Steve could smile like that. Well. That was something, anyway. 

But he was NOT going to wind up as shrink to the Avengers. The ethical considerations were enormous, and the practicalities, and no. Just no. 


	7. Pepper Potts, CEO, Stark Industries

Since Stark had packed up all Steve's things including his Harley, he and Sam took the train to New York. Sam was going back to DC in a few days to finalize things, help movers pack up his house, and check in with his vets. Steve had been worried about Hydra coming after Sam for revenge if he was alone. Which was rich, because Steve was still so beat up, he was about as much good as a week old kitten if Hydra came knocking one night while he was staying at Sam's. Steve had chilled once Natasha promised to look after him. 

Sam decided he would concentrate on the caring behind the gestures, and not the insult implying he couldn't take care of himself. He also decided not to mention the assault rifle he kept under his bed. 

And so, bright and early one Thursday morning, they got off the train at Grand Central and staggered into the lobby of Stark/Avengers Tower (the New York bureaucracy was still dithering about making the new name official). Who should be waiting for them, but Pepper Potts. Sam recognized her from the cover of Fortune magazine, as well as stories from Steve. Sam was damned impressed that they rated having the CEO meet them in the lobby. From the looks on everyone else's faces, they were impressed too, even if she was meeting Captain America. 

“Oh, Steve, your poor face.” Pepper greeted him. She was wearing heels so high she was almost as tall as Steve was, so she didn't have to reach much to gently place her hands on each side of his face and kiss his cheek. (Steve had explained that the Serum prioritized life threatening injuries first, so he'd healed his gut shot already, but his face still looked pretty horrible.) 

Sam was startled to see Steve grin and kiss her back, with a big arm around her for a careful hug. For Steve it was downright suave. “Hi, Pepper. Thanks for having us.” 

“Oh, it's nothing. The more superheros we have around, the less I have to rescue Tony.” She stepped back and smiled brightly at Sam. 

“Pepper, this is Sam Wilson, the guy who bailed me out in DC. Couldn't have saved the day without him. Sam, this is Pepper. Be nice, because when she finally takes over the world, we want to be on her good side.” 

Pepper laughed and shook his hand. “Thanks for the work on the helicarriers. Stark Industries is officially angry over the use of the repulsor tech. We really owe you one. It'll be nice to have a trained counselor around as well.” 

Sam was kind of – okay, really – overwhelmed by the charm and humor. Holy cow, she and Stark together, talk about a power couple, they could probably talk anyone into anything. “Uh. Glad to help.”

Pepper gestured toward a single elevator, off in a different area away from the huge bank of fifty-some that Sam assumed serviced the public floors of the Tower. Once inside, Pepper said “Sam's office, please, JARVIS.” 

“Very good.” A cultured voice said from the ceiling, and the 'vator moved upward. “Sergeant Wilson, if you would be so kind as to place your hand on the sensor for a palm print.” 

A square lit up next to the doors, on the otherwise completely bare interior of the elevator. “Sure.” Sam laid his right hand over it, and it tickled a little as a bright light rolled down, scanning. 

“Thank you.” said the voice. “Once there is a proper record of your biometrics, the palm print won't be required for security, but until then, we appreciate the cooperation.” 

“JARVIS figures out how we walk, move, our weight, all that, and uses it as a security code.” Pepper explained. “It's much harder to fake than any other key we could think of.” 

Sam supposed super high tech stuff was the norm in a tower built by Tony Stark for his home and main offices. “Pretty cool.” 

“Thank you, Sergeant.” said the voice. 

The 'vator stopped, and before the door opened, Pepper announced “I'd apologize for Tony, and what his idea of a proper psychiatrist's office is, but. If I started, I'd never get done apologizing for him.” 

“Y'all know I'm not a psychologist, right? I'm in college. I lead support groups, that's it.” 

“It's better than we've got now.” Pepper told him, briefly laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“I'm sure the office will be fine.” Sam told her. He was used to leading groups in the basement of a VA hospital, after all. It was a good day when they didn't have to provide their own coffee.

“I can't believe you've met Tony and can still say that.” Steve told him. 

Pepper laughed as she walked through a door and stood aside. 

It was… “It's a pub?” Sam asked in confusion. Tinted windows, paneled walls, bar – stocked – along one side, a couple tables and some comfy chairs scattered around. There was a pinball machine, and a dart board. 

Steve chuckled, and Pepper sighed. “He claimed that everyone would be more comfortable talking in these conditions.” She explained. 

“He might be right.” Sam admitted. His support groups would never leave. 

“Don't tell him that.” Pepper and Steve said together. 

“Yes, well.” Pepper rolled her eyes, moved toward another door in the far wall. “Real office through here.” 

It was nice too. Green walls, comfy furniture, desk, amazing view all the way to New Jersey out the windows. “Wow. Nice.” 

“You missed the soothing green vs. soothing pink argument.” Pepper told him with another charming grin. “Now, your apartments. Steve, there was some extra room on your floor, so Tony put Sam there too.” 

Back into the elevator, up another who-knew-how-many floors, and through two amazing apartments. One was pretty empty, the other filled out with personal stuff that Sam assumed belonged to Steve. Hanging on the wall near the door was his shield. Steve's breath wooshed out. “How-?” 

Pepper blinked. “The shield? It was with your things, I think. JARVIS?” 

There was a single beat of silence, then the British voice said “It was packed with Captain Rogers' other things, in his apartment, and moved here. Is there a problem?” 

Steve's hands were shaking as he took it down off the wall. 

“Last we saw it, it was falling into the Potomac.” Sam explained. 

Pepper frowned. “Then how-?” 

“It had to be him.” Steve announced, eyes pinning Sam's. 

Sam had to admit, he couldn't think of another way the shield had gotten from the river to Steve's apartment. 

Pepper's phone dinged, and she glanced at it. “Ugh, next crisis.” She gave Steve another kiss on the cheek, and then after a grin, kissed Sam too. “I'm glad you're both here. Dinner in the common area at seven. Make yourselves at home.” and she was gone. 

Sam felt like he'd been hit over the head with a Valentine. “Man, what is it with you and amazing, super-competent women?” 

Steve laughed. “I don't know, but it's pretty great.” 

“Why is it you're so easy with Pepper and Natasha and Hill, badasses one and all, but you start stuttering around mortal women?” 

Steve seemed to stop and really think about it. “Maybe because they remind me of my mother.” 

Boy, there was a discussion for another day. “How about a beer?” 


	8. JARVIS - ground-breaking AI, Iron Man copilot, head of security for Avengers Tower, Tony fucking Stark's nanny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this will end up being about twenty chapters. I'm on seventeen at the moment, and had a really good day of writing, so have the next chapter early.

As soon as they settled on deck chairs out on Steve's terrace, Steve says “Oh, right, I haven't introduced you yet. Sam, meet JARVIS, who is my go-to on all this future stuff.” 

Sam looks around cautiously. Nobody's there. “Uh, hi?” 

“A pleasure, Sergeant Wilson.” 

“Me too.” Sam agrees; he'd talked to the guy on the phone about packing his house and a half dozen other things. “We going to see you in the flesh any time soon?” 

Steve laughed. “Oh, right, I guess we left that part out.” 

“Indeed, Captain Rogers. I'm afraid I should have explained sooner, Sergeant Wilson, but I'd mistakenly assumed Sir had. I was originally programmed to act as Sir's assistant. In the years since I've expanded my duties and am happy to be running the building that the Avengers are based in, as well as helping Sir pilot the armor.” 

It took Sam a minute to parse all that. “You're an AI?” 

“For lack of a better term, yes.” 

“Holy shit.” was all Sam could think to say. 

“I hope this will not be a problem, Sergeant.” JARVIS said politely. Politely. An AI who could do nuance with its voice. Holy shit. 

“No, no, it's fine.” Sam hurriedly said. “I was just surprised. We've spoken on the phone, I thought you were Stark's PA. Like, in the flesh.” 

Steve was grinning. For once he was more at ease with the future than someone else. Sam let him gloat. 

“We do keep up the illusion of my… personhood.” JARVIS agreed. "My technology and programming could be very valuable to certain entities, and the potential for abuse would be high.” 

“Ah. Yeah, I can imagine. Well, no worries, JARVIS, I keep lots of people's secrets, I'll keep yours, too.” 

“You're living in the future now.” Steve told him, still laughing. 

Yeah. As if things weren't already weird. He was now friend to an AI who was more human than some people he'd met. 

“So, JARVIS, what've you got on the search?” Steve asked. “Anything?” 

Oh, shit. Stark had said JARVIS was searching 'everything, which is really everything' for the Winter Soldier. And if an AI built by Tony Stark was looking, no electronic stone would be left unturned. Which meant they'd eventually find the guy, and it was NOT a confrontation Sam was looking forward to. 

“As to that,” JARVIS said apologetically, “there is a great deal of evidence OF him, but I have nothing to lead us TO him, so to speak.” A bluish video appeared out of what seemed to be thin air, and showed a bank building rather dramatically exploding and burning to the ground. “The night of the Insight… crash, this building in Washington DC burned down. The ownership eventually tracks back through a labyrinth of shell companies and offshore holdings to Secretary of Defense Pierce.” 

Sam finished his first beer, opened his second, and tried not to imagine chasing down a guy who could blow up a bank vault. One of the few things left standing after the US dropped nukes on Japan were the bank vaults. 

“Sir and I began data mining all information as soon as Agent Romanov sent it to us, and we pinpointed both Hydra bases, and SHIELD bases of… questionable purpose.” The screen shifted to a map of north America, and small dots appeared over a depressing number of cities, with a few out in crazy rural areas. “Someone has been systematically destroying them.” Dots began switching from red to black at a really boggling rate. “Two days ago, someone began sending the Tower servers data from these bases, pre- and post- destruction.” The last couple dots switched to little Xes. “Sir has flown out to look over several of the closer sites, and has said it appears that in all cases, the base self-destruct mechanism had been, in his words, hotwired to go up with no warning. In the SHIELD bases, the fire alarm was set off precisely fifteen minutes before the self-destruct detonation. In the case of Hydra bases,” here the majority of the black sites shifted to green, “all facility exits were blocked and barricaded before the destruct was set.” 

Holy shit. Holy, holy shit. Sam gave up on beer, and went into Steve's living room to rummage through the small bar in one corner. Tequila. Yes. Tales of horrifying destruction were best offset by tequila. Sure, it was Hydra, and Barnes, of all people, had a reason to burn it down. But cold-bloodedly barricading people inside buildings and then blowing them up was a whole other level of… whatever that was. After a second's hesitation, he grabbed a highball. Might as well not start slugging booze out of the bottle quite yet. It was good to have a fallback plan. 

“What's the death toll, JARVIS?” Steve asked as Sam dropped back into his seat. 

“There, we're having difficulty, as many of the SHIELD bases have been destroyed in the small hours of the morning, and we aren't sure exactly who was there to begin with, to count against evacuees. But Sir… explored… the SHIELD payroll records that were relevant, and it appears SHIELD casualties are zero, or very near.” 

Ah. Maybe Sam wouldn't need the bottle after all. He poured another shot and kept the glass, putting the bottle aside. 

“And Hydra?” Steve asked, never one to shy from unpleasantness. 

JARVIS made a sound that Sam could have sworn was a throat clearing, and part of him marveled at the AI, even as he was topping off his drink. “Ah. Again, we are not sure of precise staffing figures, but given that those facilities were destroyed at mid day, with no warning, casualties seem to be, probably, a hundred percent.” 

Sam tossed back the shot, poured another. 

“Numbers, JARVIS?” Steve asked. 

“Thousands, Captain. Possibly tens of thousands.” 

Steve got to the bottle before Sam could pour another shot. 


	9. Doctor Bruce Banner, MD, PhD, and so on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The medic?” Bruce asked, shaking his hand. 
> 
> “Sometimes” Sam agreed with a smile. 
> 
> “Good, it'll be nice to have company, next time Tony sets himself on fire.” 
> 
> Sam couldn't tell if the guy was kidding or not. 

By the time dinner rolled around, Steve was perfectly fine (damned metabolism), but Sam was feeling a bit… cushioned. Yes. There was some nice padding on all those sharp edges reality seemed to keep developing. All things considered, he liked it and was gonna keep up on it. Especially when they walked into the common area where they were having dinner to the sound of Stark positively cackling. 

The only billionaire Sam knew was wearing a Clash tee, ripped jeans, and battered welding boots, opening what looked like a second bottle of champagne. Oh good, more cushioning. “Hi guys! Grab a glass!” 

Pepper handed one over to Sam, and another to Steve, looking about half amused and half apologetic. “Sorry. He and JARVIS found Pierce's folder of blackmail material today and there's a whole lot of schadenfreude going on at the moment.” She sipped, grinned a little. “To be honest, I'm going to enjoy it when it hits the news, too.” 

Across the room, Stark grinned like a madman and toasted, “To Senator Stern, that assclown!” 

Pepper snickered and touched glasses with Steve, who also looked amused. Sam vaguely remembered something about Stark and Stern going at it in a Senate hearing, and remembered how chummy he'd seemed with Agent Sitwell in DC. Yeah, he might enjoy seeing that guy go down in flames, too. 

Another guy sorta slouched into the room. Sam probably wouldn't have noticed except he was kind of on high alert what with the strange surroundings, the booze, and the cackling billionaire. New dude was a bit on the short side, wearing jeans and a button-down and sneakers, curly graying hair, looking a bit disheveled and apologetic. 

“Bruce!” Steve called cheerfully. 

“Oh, hi, Steve.” the guy said mildly, and changed direction, heading for them instead of Stark. 

“Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson.” Steve introduced. 

“Right, the medic?” Bruce asked, shaking his hand. 

“Sometimes” Sam agreed with a smile. 

“Good, it'll be nice to have company, next time Tony sets himself on fire.” 

Sam couldn't tell if the guy was kidding or not. 

“BrucieBear!” Stark called. “Have some champagne!” 

“You know I don't drink, Tony.” 

“You'll want to make an exception. We found Ross in the Hydra files today.” 

Banner froze, and it seemed like the entire planet stopped turning with him. That was… that was intimidating as hell. Sam took another swig of buffer and waited to see if he needed to leap for the fire stairs behind him. Pepper laid a hand on Banner's arm and he took a deep breath, and the world started moving again. 

“Tony, you know better than to ambush me with anything.” 

Stark ambled over and literally shoved a champagne flute into Banner's hands. “You know, Hulk actually LIKES me. I bet he'd love to hear the news, too. And you know I love his work when he remodels.” 

There was a vague gesture and Sam noticed a body-sized hole in the slate flooring over near the windows. It looked like it had been filled in with something clear, to make it safe. But the hole was definitely preserved. He must have looked confused. “During the invasion, Hulk caught up to Loki in here. He used Loki to make that hole in the floor.” Pepper told him quietly. 

That's when it all flashed into a single big picture. Calm quiet dude turned into that giant green… thing? Monster seemed rude, when the… thing… had clearly played a role in saving the planet, if even a tenth of the YouTube videos were to be believed. Still, “Could we skip meeting the big green guy?” Sam blurted out. Whoops. He was blaming the booze. “I appreciate all he did for the planet, but, you know, I've met my quota of new people for the day.” 

Banner smiled cautiously. “I'd prefer we avoid it too.” 

“Okay then. That's cool. I can work with that.” Sam realized he was babbling and shut up. 

“How can you be drunk on half a flute of champagne?” Stark asked bluntly. 

“Skill.” Sam told him. 

“We had some tequila while we were going over the Hydra stuff with JARVIS.” Steve explained, because idiot white boy had to tell the truth all the time for some stupid reason. 

“Ah.” Stark said. Amazingly, he didn't say anything else on the subject, but he did top off Sam's drink, and asked them all “how about some food? So we can drink more later when we go through the files JARVIS and I found today.”

.....-

After dinner, which was Indian food hot enough to burn off some of the alcohol in Sam's system, they all took seats in the living room area in front of the biggest flatscreen TV Sam had ever seen. Banner had seemed nervous during dinner, apprehensive enough that Sam had cut back on the booze so he'd be more alert for the evening's Hydra info dump. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted to be alert to offer emotional support or get the fuck outta the room as fast as possible, but he was ready to roll in either case. 

The picture of a gray-haired white guy flashed on the screen. He was wearing an Army uniform, ribbons mostly bullshit awards that upper echelons liked to give each other to keep up with all the Purple Hearts and Silver Stars the guys on the ground were getting. Seeing how Banner stiffened just at the sight of him, Sam was willing to hate him on sight. 

“General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross, may he rot in a cell forever when we're done with him.” Stark said brightly. 

Banner sighed, shook his head, and rubbed his hands over his face. “Tony. We can't – aren't – going to do anything illegal. We've had this discussion.” 

“We don't have to any more, Jolly Green. Motherfucker's been accepting funding from Hydra.” 

Banner went white to the lips and Sam used his alertness to keep a clear eye on all exits. 

“Betty.” He said. 

Pepper took over, first by efficiently whapping Stark in the head (looked like a gesture she used regularly). Then she laid a hand over Banner's on the couch. “She's clear, Bruce. After your accident, she left the job with the Army and took a teaching position at Culver University.” 

Bruce let out a slow breath, head drooping, and nodded silently. 

Pepper turned to Sam, without letting go of Banner's hand. “After the lab accident that created Bruce's current circumstances, Ross declared Bruce Army property and has been chasing him ever since. Bruce has been in hiding.” 

“In fact, he's in Ecuador right now.” Stark added with a grin. 

Nice. 

A couple pages of accounting flashed up on the screen. JARVIS took over. “After your accident, Doctor Banner, the Army took a look at his entire command and cut back both his authority and funding drastically.” Lines of numbers were highlighted and discussion went on about bank accounts. “Far more incriminating,” JARVIS continued with a picture of another constipated-looking white guy, “Emil Blonsky, currently known as Abomination, has a long and well documented career with Hydra.” More photos, some of White Guy in a Hydra uniform. 

Then there was a picture of a vaguely humanoid, fucked up, yellow THING. Who actually looked kind of familiar. 

“Son of a bitch. That's the asshole who trashed Harlem a couple years ago.” Sam snarled. 

“Yeah, I had a part in that, sorry.” Banner confirmed. 

“No, I don't think you did.” Sam argued. “I was there, on leave. Wound up working rescue crews for two days after. I remember the big green guy too. Green dude was trying to contain yellow fugly monster here. You don't remember?” Hoo boy, Banner wasn't even there with the green guy? That had to be terrifying. 

“I never do. Sometimes little flashes, emotions, that’s about it.” 

Sam nodded at that. Made sense, if fucked up sense. “You – green dude – Hulk, right? Hulk actually stopped to hold up a building long enough for people to get out. I was there, man. He helped.” Helped like an overgrown four year old in a bad mood, but still. Sam didn’t think any casualties were on Hulk, and he KNEW Hulk hadn’t caused anyone deliberate harm. “I got the sense Hulk would have happily taken off and left everyone alone. In fact, he did, after he took down the monster thing. Abomination. Good name. That thing was psycho. Targeted civilians.” 

Banner was staring at him with wide eyes, but the other three were grinning. 

“Yeah, I think you'll do all right here.” Stark told him. Then he turned to Banner. “So what do you want us to do, Brucie?” 

Banner rubbed his face again. Pepper put an arm around him. “Where's Betty?” 

Steve leaned over, told Sam quietly, “Ross' daughter. They were dating.” 

Oooh, damn. Messy. 

“I called her as soon as JARVIS alerted me to these guys tearing up DC. She said she was covered, would go stay with friends for a couple days.” Stark told him. 

“Publish it, JARVIS. Press release, all the major networks and web sites, the works, please.” 

“Very good, Doctor Banner.” 

“Didn’t y’all put all this on the internet already?” Sam was confused. Because at least three hours of Steve and Fury arguing had been over whether any of the information went public or not. 

“Nah, we had JARVIS hack the SHIELD servers and dig through for any other Hydra information after we got the first info dump.” Stark explained. “That’s what’s taking so long.” 

“JARVIS, can you try to keep an eye on Betty, warn us about any investigations, legal action, any of that?” 

“Of course, Doctor Banner.” 

“We've been trying to hire her for years.” Pepper told them. “I'll have HR make her another offer. See what we can do to get her here. Safest place, and I understand the labs are the best in the world.” 

“Thanks.” Banner told them all. “JARVIS, where is Blonsky?” 

“Ah.” There was a pause. Sam wondered how much multitasking it took, to make JARVIS have to stop and think. Good grief. “Unfortunately, it seems Abomination is in the wind.” 

More pictures of ugly yellow thing. “What's he look like when he's human, again?” Sam asked. 

“He, uh, he doesn't switch back.” Banner told him. 

“Well damn. That ugly mug shouldn't be hard to find.” 

“He was being held in a high security facility belonging to SHIELD, known as the Raft.” Schematics flicked on screen. “There was a pitched battle there when Captain Rogers made his announcement across all SHIELD channels. It is currently being processed by the US Marshals. Records are spotty so no one is quite sure who or what escaped, but the Abomination was known to be there and is now, not.” 

Steve sighed heavily. “Any leads, JARVIS?” 

“Not at this time, Captain. May I suggest all of you get some rest and we will start again in the morning? I will continue all searches and notify you if any relevant data is found, before then.” 

“Yeah, I think I've had enough.” Sam admitted. 

And more of the same tomorrow. With bonus monsters on the loose. Oh, goodie. 


	10. Doctor Betty Ross, MD PhD etc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They really are friends.” Doctor Ross murmured. 
> 
> Sam nodded. “I’ve only been here a day, but we all had dinner together last night, and Doctor Banner seemed at ease with him. Tony keeps calling them the Science Bros and Doctor Banner rolls his eyes and smiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another good day writing, another extra chapter.

Sam had slept off the worst of his hangover and was sipping coffee the next morning. It was early. Steve had awakened him at just-barely-dawn to ask him if they were running and Sam had laughed at him. So now Steve was out doing laps of Manhattan or god knew, and Sam was sitting in the most expensive apartment he’d ever met, drinking super high end coffee from the European coffeemaker the place came equipped with. He’d had to ask the super-advanced AI running the building how to work the coffee machine. Sam was beginning to identify with Steve’s ‘I’m just a kid from Brooklyn’ routine, ‘cause he had a major case of ‘just a kid from Harlem’ going on. 

There was a cursory knock at the door, before it swept open (automatic sliding doors, Sam needed to ask if that was a deliberate copy from Star Trek) and Tony fucking Stark burst in. Dude never did anything at normal speed. “Dude. It’s dawn. Have a cup of coffee and chill out.” Sam figured they needed to get to know each other better before he started swearing at the guy like he wanted to. 

Stark did grab for a mug. He poured a cup and slugged it down so fast it seemed like one gesture. “Ah. Needed that. You’re trained in conflict resolution, right?” 

That did NOT sound promising. “Uh...” 

“Barring that, you can break up a fight. You were military. And I saw you in action with Cap.” 

“It’s way too fucking early for this, Stark.” Oh look, he was swearing already. 

“Get up.” Stark grabbed him by the arm and jerked him to his feet. “Come on. I need you in the lobby.” 

Sam refilled his coffee and brought it along. “What’s going on?” he asked as the elevator doors slid shut and they started moving downward. He was really glad he’d gotten dressed because he seriously doubted Stark would have given him the chance. 

“Betty Ross is in the lobby and she’s probably going to rip out my liver and feed it to me. I’d really appreciate it, as your landlord and wing supplier, if you talked her out of it.” Stark was somehow managing to pace inside an elevator. 

Uh huh. “This would be the general’s daughter that Banner dated?” 

“Yes.” Stark confirmed. 

The elevator doors slid open and a woman’s voice barked “Stark, get your ass out of that elevator before I drag it out.” That sounded like Sam’s kinda person, truth be told. He could definitely relate to the urge to swear at Tony Stark. 

Stark flinched, muttered “ooooh, shit,” and got out of the elevator. 

Well, Stark was doing a lot of good in the world, and he was Steve’s friend, no matter what Steve said. Plus there was a rumor of new wings. So with a sigh, Sam stepped out of the waiting elevator and up to the drama in the center of the lobby. Though he was kinda-sorta inclined to like anyone who could intimidate Tony fucking Stark. Fortunately it was extremely early and the lobby was mostly deserted, but the receptionist looked terrified, and the security guards were looking shifty, so, yeah, lets resolve some conflict.

“Hi.” Sam said to the beautiful woman towering over Stark, hands on hips. Long brown hair, glasses, hourglass figure, go Banner. “I’m Sam Wilson.” 

The woman looked away from Stark for a moment. “The guy with the wings?” 

Oh man, that title was gonna follow him forever. “Sometimes. Is there something we can help you with?” 

That seemed to snap her out of her glaring contest with Stark and she glanced around, taking note of the shifty security guards. “I’m here to see Bruce.” she turned back to Stark. “Don’t you dare try to stop me, Tony. Take me to where he’s being held, or I’ll beat the information out of you and drag you there by your ankle. I’ve done it before, you know I will.” 

Sam felt his eyebrows climb. 

Stark, putting his hands up, said to Sam, “We were ten; we grew up together, both our dads were military industrial warmongers. It was better to let her beat me down than answer to Jarvis if I punched a girl.” 

That sounded about right. Though Sam was pretty sure even now Doctor Ross could take down Tony if he was out of the suit. He’d pay to watch that, actually. “Wait. Held?” Like in captivity or some shit? 

Betty’s eyes filled with tears. “After all the Hydra information came out yesterday, I broke into Dad’s house and hacked his computer. He said you were holding Hulk, Tony. I will never forgive you. Not for this. Now tell me where he is.” 

“Hell.” Stark muttered under his breath. “Not here. Come on.” He ushered Betty and Sam into the elevator. It didn’t move, but the doors shut. “Betty, he made me promise not to tell you anything. That he was here, or any of that. It was one of his conditions for staying. I’ve been bugging him to talk to you ever since, but I gave my word and if he wanted he could disappear and we’d never find him.” 

“Where?” Betty grit out. 

“He’s here.” Stark said gently. “JARVIS, where’s Bruce right now?” 

“Doctor Banner is in his lab, Sir. Doctor Ross, I apologize as well for not informing you. Doctor Banner made me give my word not to contact you, as well.” 

Sam fought the urge to hold his head. Banner got an AI to give him his word, and the damned AI did. This was his life now. Promises made by computers. And computers who kept those promises. And apologized later for hurt feelings. 

“Doctor Ross,” Sam tried, “you know about the Hulk, right?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Well, I probably know the least about him but I don’t think barging into Doctor Banner’s lab with no warning is the best idea, right?” Sam asked. He really meant it when he said he didn’t want to meet the Hulk. 

Doctor Ross sighed. “You’re right. He has his own lab? My father made it sound like he was in a cell. Not that I believed it, but...” 

JARVIS, being brilliant, somehow got a security feed from Banner’s lab and projected it onto the elevator wall. He was brewing himself a cup of tea, and reading something on a StarkTab at the same time. He was rumpled and his glasses were crooked, and Betty gave a sob when she saw him and the tears really started then. 

Hell, Sam hated women crying. He always wanted to fix it. THIS URGE TO HELP WAS ALWAYS HOW HE GOT ROPED INTO TROUBLE. See his entire second Air Force hitch for reference. “How about we wait here in the ‘vator, while Stark goes in and tells Banner he has company?” Betty nodded and wiped at her eyes. “Okay, JARVIS?” 

“On the way, Sergeant Wilson.” The elevator started moving. Sam didn’t think that would ever NOT be weird. 

“How come I have to explain it to Bruce? You’re the shrink.” Tony complained. 

“Not. A. Shrink.” Sam told him, AGAIN, through his teeth. “The guy has met me one time. I show up and start getting all polite and he’s gonna think I’m nuts or panic. No. Get your ass in there and talk to your friend.” 

“You’re a lousy shrink.” Tony told him. 

“I will kick your ass.” Sam snarled. He was pretty sure he heard Betty giggle, so that was good but damn it, he really was going to beat Tony to a pulp if he kept up the shrink thing. 

“But I wanted to kick his ass.” Doctor Ross told him. 

“Maybe we could tag team him.” Sam allowed. That could be fun. 

“Okay, okay!” Stark threw up his hands and practically leapt out of the elevator when the doors opened. “Stay here, give me a minute.” 

On the screen, Sam watched with the doc as Tony burst into Banner’s lab (dude needed to seriously chill) and start talking, arms waving. Banner, who’d smiled when Tony first appeared, started to frown, as Tony kept talking. 

“They really are friends.” Doctor Ross murmured. 

Sam nodded. “I’ve only been here a day, but we all had dinner together last night, and Doctor Banner seemed at ease with him. Tony keeps calling them the Science Bros and Doctor Banner rolls his eyes and smiles.” 

Betty sighed. 

“I know you just met me and all,” Sam continued, “but also last night, Ms. Potts mentioned she’s been trying to hire you. Can’t tell you what to do, but maybe you should think about it.” Sam could use another sane person around here. Multiple doctorates probably didn’t count as a super power, so the baseline humans would get another team member, too. 

On screen, Tony turned to the camera and made the ‘come over here’ signal. Doctor Ross straightened her shoulders and stepped out of the elevator. Tony and the doc passed, her going toward Banner, Tony escaping to the elevator. Sam watched the two doctors embrace as Tony slipped into the elevator and said “JARVIS, penthouse, and step on it.” 

As soon as they were moving, Tony clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Good job. I’m very glad to not have to explain a black eye to Pepper.” 

“If Doctor Ross punched you, Pepper would double her salary offer.” Sam told him. 

“It’s scary how fast you got to know all of us.” 

Sam just shook his head. 


	11. Former SHIELD Agent Phillip Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha snarled, “Oh, DAMN it,” was across the room and jerking Coulson up out of his seat before Sam really tracked what was happening. Steve yelped and jumped toward them, but backed off again once he realized Natasha had reeled Coulson in for a hug. Coulson let out a shuddering breath, wrapped his arms around her, and hung on tight. He buried his face in her hair as Pepper got there from the other side and wrapped her arms around both of them.

Apparently Tony and JARVIS’ big data dump on the internet the night before had put in motion all sorts of things that had been gaining momentum for years. Doctor Ross was only the start. (In the end, Tony got a hug for taking care of Banner, and Sam never had to break up the potential fight. He’s relieved. No, really. Even if Tony did deserve a knuckle sandwich half the time. And Doctor Ross looked like she was capable of some serious mayhem, given proper motivation.) 

After lunch, Steve appeared in Sam’s living room, white to the lips, and said “we need you in the common room”. 

The last time Sam had seen Steve this rattled was when the Winter Soldier lost his mask and turned out to be his dead best friend. “Y’all know I’m not a shrink, right?” Was anyone getting this? Did he need to make a tee shirt? 

“You’re the only game in town.” Steve told him, hustling him onto the elevator. “I can prevent or break up any fights, but I’m not even good at my own emotional stuff, let alone anyone else’s.” 

Sam couldn’t help it. “JARVIS, did you get that last sentence of Steve’s? Can you send it to my phone so I can play it back at him later?” 

“Of course, Sergeant Wilson. Downloading now.” 

Then the elevator doors opened to shouting. Wow, so much shouting. And Pepper Potts was crying, not doing anything, just standing there crying, which had to be a sign of the End of Days. Natasha looked murderous which was always damn scary. 

He put his fingers in his teeth and whistled as loud as he could. The noise level dropped a bit, and Sam spoke. “How about everybody sit down and take a breath.” 

To his amazement, people did, and he got a chance to figure out who was there. Banner and Ross weren’t, which given the tension in the room was all to the good. Pepper and Tony were holding hands on a love seat, Pepper crying into a kleenex and Tony looking like he couldn’t decide whether to punch someone or cry himself. Hell. Natasha didn’t sit down, but stood, arms crossed, bouncing on the balls of her feet, waiting for a target to show up so she could destroy it. Maria Hill stood next to her, lips white and eyes wet. 

In an easy chair was a middle aged white guy wearing a suit. Completely nondescript. For some reason that alone was damned unnerving. He was staring down at his hands, doing what looked like some kind of breathing exercise. 

Goddamn, he was gonna have to lead a support group of spies and billionaires. And super soldiers. Speaking of, “Steve? You wanna introduce me?” 

Steve heaved a huge sigh of what seemed like relief, and nodded. “Sam, this is Agent Phil Coulson. Phil, Sam.” 

Coulson nodded and said “Sergeant.” politely. 

Well, it beat “the guy with the wings?” anyway. “Nice to meet you.” Sam replied, and took a seat facing everyone else. “Okay. Who talks first?” He was gonna pretend he was at the VA, not the highest priced penthouse in Manhattan, and these were all everyday enlisted veterans who’d crawled through sand just like him. When that quit working, he’d figure something else out. Or fuck off back to DC where his life had been normal, and pretend that it still was. 

Everyone looked at the new guy, so Sam smiled at Coulson and waited. 

After a moment, the guy looked up, met his eyes, squared his shoulders. “Three years ago, during the Chitauri invasion, I was stabbed in the back with a magical spear by a Norse god.” 

Sounded like the start of a long story. Before he could do anything, Tony spoke up. Because of course he did. “So that part wasn’t a lie, at least?” he asked sarcastically. 

Hill flinched, which was interesting. 

Shame Sam didn’t have a clue about anyone’s history around here except Steve’s. If he was staying, he was gonna demand some records. “Stark, I swear to god, if you don’t shut it until it’s your turn to talk, I will find a gag.” Sam told him. 

Pepper smiled at him brightly, so Sam ignored the glare from Tony. Interestingly, that also got a half smile from Coulson. “I always threatened him with a tazer.” the guy told him. Sam had to grin. 

Dude sighed, and went back to his story. “After I died, I was exposed to alien artifacts and resurrected. Because said artifacts were beyond classified, as well as their ability to bring back the dead, my memory was altered. They did not stop at altering my memories of resurrection, and decided to remove or alter a great many other memories, going back at least ten years. I knew almost immediately that something was… off, but hadn’t realized until last night’s information dump how much of my memory was compromised.” 

“I am going to gut him, and fillet him like a trout.” Natasha snarled between her teeth. Sam didn’t know who she was talking about, but he assumed no one in the room, since Steve wasn’t peeling her off them or confiscating knives.

“Let me know if you need an alibi.” Hill told her, with a watery sniffle. 

Sam glanced at them both. “No interruptions. If not for coherency, at least think of plausible deniability.” He turned back to Coulson. “So what brings you here?” he tried to use an easy, encouraging voice. 

Coulson stared out the window for a moment. “I can’t stay with SHIELD, not after this. The Tower is the safest building I know of, and I’d hoped Stark would protect my team until we figured out what to do next.” 

“Okay.” That sounded perfectly reasonable to Sam. But Stark was practically vibrating out of his seat, so giving in to the inevitable, he asked “Stark? There’s a problem with him staying here?” He still didn’t understand what all the outrage was about. Yeah, being lied to sucked, but gutting and shouting and Pepper Potts crying seemed like a whole other level of anger. 

“WE THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD UNTIL HE WALKED INTO THE BUILDING FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO.” Stark bellowed. 

Ah. Well, yes, that was a good reason for all the stress and anger seething through the room. He turned to Coulson and asked as calmly as possible, “you didn’t want to tell them before this?” 

Coulson’s eyes were a bit wet, which was probably the most disturbing thing yet. “My memories were altered specifically to remove any desire for me to contact anyone from my life before.” He looked at Natasha. “I am so sorry. I still don’t remember everything, but I had someone hack the servers and spent the night reading old Delta reports, and.” he lifted his hands, dropped them. “I’m sorry. I came as soon as I realized what had happened.” 

Natasha snarled, “Oh, DAMN it,” was across the room and jerking Coulson up out of his seat before Sam really tracked what was happening. Steve yelped and jumped toward them, but backed off again once he realized Natasha had reeled Coulson in for a hug. Coulson let out a shuddering breath, wrapped his arms around her, and hung on tight. He buried his face in her hair as Pepper got there from the other side and wrapped her arms around both of them. 

Steve dropped down beside Tony and rubbed his face with his hands. “Christ, what a mess.” 

“After Natasha kills him, I am going to irradiate his remains, have Hulk stomp them to putty, then pour the liquid into a can and, and, put it in the nastiest landfill I can find.” Stark growled while rubbing Steve’s back. 

That was interesting. 

Hill gave a sniffle and dropped down on Sam’s couch. “Stark, do you have a room for a couple days? I’d like to stay with Coulson’s team ‘til they settle in and I don’t want to be at my apartment if anyone comes looking. I’m not going back to SHIELD after this, either.” She shook her head. “I knew they removed his memory of the actual… resurrection. It was traumatic. But not the rest.” 

Stark shrugged. “Sure. More the merrier. I’ve got a couple floors of guest accommodations. Coulson has a team?” 

“Wait, wait.” Sam interrupted. “Who are we killing? I assume not Coulson since he’s still breathing and all.” 

“The guy who masterminded this whole thing.” Hill told him, with a nod toward Coulson. “Director Fury.” 

Ah. AH. Suddenly all the outrage made perfect sense. He looked over to Natasha, who’d settled down with Coulson beside her. “You need me to hold your purse for this?” 

To everyone else’s surprise, Natasha gave one of her full, easy laughs. That seemed to work on everyone and the tension dropped to reasonable levels almost instantly. 

Whew. 


	12. Team BUS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I told you, we need a shrink. You’ve kept people from brawling at least twice now.” Tony immediately replied. 
> 
> “I will fucking throw you off the roof if you do not get it through your thick skull that I am not a shrink.” 
> 
> “This is how it starts.” Coulson told Sam. “One day you’re telling someone that isn’t your job, the next you’re adopted by assassins who sneak into your house and eat all your scones.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not such a good day writing, but have an extra chapter, anyway. Want to finish this so I can write about what's going on with Coulson. And the Abomination. And several couples and trios that need to get together.

After a bit of breathing room and some more friendly chat with the group gathered around Coulson, Sam somehow found himself on an elevator with Tony and Coulson, to go fetch his team from the coffee shop in the lobby. 

“I’ve been here less than forty-eight hours; how am I winding up included in all this stuff?” Sam wondered out loud. 

“I told you, we need a shrink. You’ve kept people from brawling at least twice now.” Tony immediately replied. 

“I will fucking throw you off the roof if you do not get it through your thick skull that I am not a shrink.” 

“This is how it starts.” Coulson told Sam. “One day you’re telling someone that isn’t your job, the next you’re adopted by assassins who sneak into your house and eat all your scones.” 

“Oh god.” Sam sighed. 

Coulson gave a faint smile as he stepped off the elevator. “The day after that, you find yourself in Budapest chasing two assets and an unknown spy, by a trail of beer cans, shredded undergarments, and chocolate wrappers, wondering how it became your life.” 

“One day I will find out what happened in Budapest.” Tony vowed. 

“I’mma head back to DC. It was quiet there.” Sam mused. 

They slowed as they walked toward the coffee shop in one corner of the first floor of the Tower. “And then,” Coulson said under his breath, “you find yourself responsible for a group of brilliant youngsters and it’s the most terrifying thing of all.” 

One older woman with eyes like Natasha’s, and three of those youngsters Coulson was talking about, turned at their approach. “Coulson?” The older woman asked. 

“It’s all right.” Coulson nodded. 

“Room for everyone!” Tony added. 

The woman gave Stark such an unimpressed look, Sam was willing to like her on the spot. “Sam Wilson.” he offered his hand. 

She smiled at him, and shook. “Melinda May. Nice work in DC.” 

“Mostly it was Cap. I just fell a lot. With style.” 

She gave a snort/eyeroll/headshake combination. “Right.” 

Then Stark almost-shouted “Doctor Leo Fitz?” 

The male in the knot of three young people looked up, apprehensive. “Uh. Yes?” 

Stark went up and grabbed his hand, shaking it. “You’re hired. Come on, I’ll get you a lab.” He turned. “Goddamn, Coulson, you didn’t tell me you had a team of geniuses. Of COURSE we have space.” 

Coulson muttered something that sounded like “dear mother of God” and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Stark, pulling the kid toward the elevator (kid wasn’t moving, points to him for survival instinct), paused. “Wait, you have a partner you work with, in the squishy sciences, right? You need a combination lab?” he glanced back at the women. “Which of you is squishy science? You’re hired too.” 

The conservatively dressed, very quiet blonde youngster stood. “Uh, Jemma Simmons. I work with Fitz quite a lot, I’m probably-” 

Stark was right there. “Doctor Simmons. Holy- It's an honor. I used some of the thoughts you and Doctor Fitz here had about cybernetics when I was designing my suit. Come on, I’ve got Banner and Ross upstairs, with the five of us we should be able to cure cancer by dinner.” Stark hadn’t let go of Simmons either, now he had one scientist by each hand and was tugging toward the private ‘vator. 

“Does he have any social skills at all?” May muttered under her breath. 

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Sam told her. 

“Don’t worry, Melinda, I’ve got this.” The other young woman stood up. Where everyone else was wearing business semi-casual, she was wearing ripped jeans and a Doctor Who tee shirt. She’d been watching the entire exchange with a bemused look on her face, but now she was outright grinning. “Yo, Stark!” she almost shouted across the lobby. Heads turned. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose some more. 

“Yes?” Tony asked. “Are you as brilliant as these two? You’re hired as well.” 

She smiled then, an evil smile, and announced. “I’m Skye.” 

Coulson gave out a heavy sigh, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. Beside Sam, May breathed something in probably Chinese under her breath. It sounded like swearing. 

Stark froze. “YOU.” He let go of both his captives and walked back to Skye, pointing an oil-stained finger at her nose. “Rising Tide. Hacker. YOU.” Security, following Stark’s lead and body language, started to look a little shifty. 

The woman clearly saw security closing in, but continued to smile. “Yep. That’s me.” 

Ooooh, shit, Sam knew the Rising Tide, and if this woman was good enough Stark knew of her, well. He rocked up onto his toes a bit, in case he had to break something up. Though if May got involved he didn’t think he stood a chance. 

“I don’t know whether to hire you or strangle you.” Stark told her. 

Skye lifted one fist into the air. “Up the rebels. Free data for all. Hacktivists unite. Got a Guy Fawkes mask around here anywhere? AC confiscated mine when he black-bagged me.” 

Sam felt some grudging respect. Most people didn’t have the guts to stand up to Stark when he was right in front of them, with all that focus solely on the source of his annoyance. Let alone goad him, like this woman was. This woman who clearly knew what Stark was capable of, and was still pushing all his big, bright red buttons.

Stark narrowed his eyes and glared. Skye crossed her arms, cocked out a hip comfortably, and stared back, one eyebrow raised. 

After a long couple moments, Skye grinned. “What’s the matter old man, afraid your security can’t stand up to me?” 

“Oh. Oh, that is it, kid. It is ON.” Stark snapped. “In the elevator!” He pointed. 

Doctor Simmons, who seemed to be giggling, joined arms with Skye. “We’ll get you a computer science lab. It’ll be fun!” 

“The hell we will!” Stark shouted, following them. Fitz was already in the elevator, patiently waiting. Sam bet Fitz did a lot of that. 

Coulson had dropped down at the table and flagged a waitress. May sat with him, and after a moment, Sam sat too. “So tazing Stark. That works?” 

Coulson shook his head. “Not even shoving him through a wormhole to another dimension helped. Just roll with it. It’s the only way to survive.” 

May pulled out a flask and slapped it down on the table. 

“Oh, good idea.” Sam agreed. Finally, he had some other adults in this circus. 


	13. Clint Barton, Hawkeye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guy glanced at Sam, took a dart out of the half dozen in his hand and without getting up or even paying much attention, threw it. It landed in the dart board about thirty feet away, dead center in the bullseye, joining a half dozen darts already there. 
> 
> “Hawkeye, right?” Sam asked. Seemed pretty obvious. 
> 
> The guy gave a full body shrug, threw another dart. THUNK. “Yeah. Clint Barton. I prefer Clint when I’m not shooting stuff in a professional capacity.”

Later that afternoon, Sam finally got down to Tony’s shop. It was like an auto shop and a machine shop got together and had babies with a NASA base, or maybe the old Skunk Works facility. And that was BEFORE he met the robot. He’d been arguing for at least fifteen minutes over whether his new wings needed repulsors (maybe), and how he needed an actual falcon to go with his name (no, for fuck’s sake, Stark, what?) when JARVIS gave a discreet ding. 

“Sergeant Wilson, you have a guest in your office.” 

Sam and JARVIS had quite a discussion that afternoon, over security and privacy and secrets and legally covered privilege. It was interesting that JARVIS had such solid ethics. He explained he was a learning system, but even so, with the entirety of the internet at his disposal, the personality development was damned interesting. Sam thought they’d covered everything, though he hadn’t taken the time to lay down any rules with the actual Avengers yet; he’d planned to do that over dinner that evening. 

Tony put down his tools. “Oooh! First patient! JARVIS, who is it? I should give out a prize. What’s a good first person to therapy prize? A car? A car would be good.” 

Sam glared. “You do anything to hack security, and I will publish every shrinky thing I suspect about you in the New York Times. Also, NOT A SHRINK. DO NOT HAVE PATIENTS.” 

Tony actually looked a bit hurt. “Sheesh. No need to get mean about it.” 

Damn it, now Sam had to be nice. “Well hell, Stark, most people feel really touchy about psychology and admitting weakness, so try to ease off, okay?” It was why he liked leading groups of people; everyone got to realize they were in the same boat, and that reluctance to admit there was a problem or ask for help faded quite a bit. Then he could actually be useful. One reason Sam was being nicer to Stark than he might, was because Stark had admitted right up front the Avengers needed a shrink. Even before the additional air support. 

Tony made some kind of placating gesture that Sam didn’t believe for a second. 

“Right then, I’m gonna go deal with that, do NOT buy any birds or make my wings defy gravity or radioactive or glow in the dark or some shit until we’re done with this discussion.”

“Killjoy!” Stark called after Sam. 

Sam was gonna find a Medal of Honor somewhere and give it to Pepper Potts for dealing with Stark for over a decade. The military frowned like hell on that as a gag gift, but dammit, if ever a civilian deserved a Medal of Honor it was Pepper Potts. She was probably the reason the entire planet wasn’t a giant smoking crater from Stark’s Merchant of Death years. Dude was damn good at whatever he decided to do, and that included blowing shit up. 

In his pub (damn if Sam’s calling a pub an office; he should name it and get a neon sign, hmmm), there’s a new guy he hasn’t met yet. Blonde hair, light bluish eyes, tee shirt and jeans. Shortish and stocky in a muscular way, slouched at one of the tables with his feet up on it and a pilsner glass about half full of beer within reach. Guy glanced at Sam, took a dart out of the half dozen in his hand and without getting up or even paying much attention, threw it. It landed in the dart board about thirty feet away, dead center in the bullseye, joining a half dozen darts already there. 

“Hawkeye, right?” Sam asked. Seemed pretty obvious. 

The guy gave a full body shrug, threw another dart. THUNK. “Yeah. Clint Barton. I prefer Clint when I’m not shooting stuff in a professional capacity.” 

“Cool.” Sam went to the bar. “I’m Sam, which I assume you already know. Want a soda? I’m having a soda.” 

THUNK. “I’ll stick with beer for now, thanks.” 

Uh huh. Sam rummaged, got a can of soda, got some ice, found a glass and a straw. “You planning on doing any real damage with those?” he asked as casually as possible. A dart in the eye, with reasonable force, would kill someone pretty fast. Hawkeye of all people would know that. 

Clint looked at the darts left in his hand in surprise. “Oh. Nah, not now. Especially not with someone I just met.” THUNK. “Might plant one in Stark’s ass later.” 

Sam sat down at the table cautiously. “I’m sure I should be talking about risks and self destructive behavior and bad choices and consequences and all that, but if you do it, make sure it’s somewhere I can watch.” 

Clint smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and rose to get his darts before dropping back into his seat. “You met Coulson today.” 

Ah. Yeah, Sam could see how rising from the dead would bother the people around said resurrectee. And he’d gotten a quick low-down on Strike Team Delta from Natasha. At least ONE person understood he needed background to do his damn job with any skill. “Yeah. Seems okay.” He’d spent less than an hour with the guy, but it was interesting how EVERYONE treated Coulson with deep respect, even Stark in his halfassed way. 

Clint kinda snorted at that. THUNK. “He was the best I knew.” THUNK. “Phil, Nat, and me, we were Strike Team Delta for about ten years.” THUNK. “Together, we were pretty much invincible.” 

Sam could believe that. Natasha’s skill set was… comprehensive to the point of disturbing. She’d hugged Coulson so there had to be a lot of skill there that she respected. When she spoke of Hawkeye it was part respect and part love. What kind of love he wasn’t sure, but Sam was damn sure Natasha didn’t spend ten years working with someone incompetent or untrustworthy. She sure as hell didn’t come out the other side caring about them. “Natasha’s pretty goddamn intimidating all on her own.” Sam allowed, sipping his drink. “I trailed after her like a baby duck while she stole my wings from Fort Meade. I have never felt more inadequate.” 

Clint gave a bark of not-quite laughter, and got up for his darts again. The bullseye of the dart board was looking pretty sad, bits of cork falling out of it. “She told me to talk to you.” THUNK. A dart went into the outer edge of the board at one o’clock. “The number of people she’s told me to talk to, since we met, is up to three.” THUNK, two o’clock. 

“I think I’m flattered.” Sam admitted. 

“You impressed her.” THUNK. Hawkeye was up to six o’clock. “That doesn’t happen too often.” 

Wow. He really was flattered. Sam couldn’t think of anything relevant to add, so he sipped his drink and watched Clint finish circling the dart board and get up to retrieve the darts again. Lots of guys did better with something in their hands while they listened or talked, plus he doubted he could get the darts away from someone with Hawkeye’s training even if he wanted to. 

Clint sat again, drank some beer, put the darts down and nudged them around the table with a blunt, callused finger. “Coulson and I, the last six years of Team Delta, were sleeping together. We were talking about getting married right before everything went to hell.” At that he drained his beer and got up for another. He was drinking Guinness, which appeared to be on tap. Best pub ever. 

“You found out today he’s still alive?” Sam asked carefully. 

Clint nodded. 

“Man, that sucks.” Sam told him. Because it did. Because he didn’t lie to his people. Because he didn’t want Clint thinking he disapproved or some shit. And man alive, two and a half years thinking your mate was dead, then finding out they DIDN’T REMEMBER YOU. Damn. That was a big bucket of suck. It also made Natasha’s seething anger much more understandable. And scary, because she’d probably meant it, about gutting and filleting. 

Clint gave him a look more piercing than Stark’s, which was impressive. “You’re not at all like the SHIELD shrinks.” He dropped back down at their table, kicked his feet up again. 

Sam sighed. “Fucking Stark. I’m not a shrink. I’m a counselor. I’ll keep your secrets, I’ll make suggestions, I’ll help you any way I can. But if you seem to be really going off the rails, I’ll rat you out to relevant parties so fast you won’t know what happened.” 

“Relevant parties?” 

“In your case,” Sam allowed, “until I find someone who is REALLY good at trauma, violence, and PTSD in the city, I’d tell Natasha and hopefully the three of us would discuss what to do.” 

Clint nodded. “That’s… pretty reasonable.” 

Sam hoped the other Avengers would think so, because that was going to be the one overriding rule. He was NOT qualified to deal with anyone actively homicidal or suicidal and God’s truth, he didn’t want to be. He wanted to hang out in his awesome pub, listening to good people work through crap that life threw at them, helping if he could. 

“I’m not planning to hurt myself, or anyone else.” Clearly Clint had dealt with a few by-the-book psychologists in his day. “Don’t want to or feel like hurting myself, or anyone other than Fury. Fury I’d like to beat the shit out of, but Natasha told me to stay away for now and I REALLY do not want to cross her.” 

Sam nodded. “Sounds good.” He appreciated that Clint was admitting openly that he wanted to pound on Fury. Given the circumstances, it’d be strange if he didn’t. Hell, Sam would like to give the guy a couple shots for putting friends through this and he had about two weeks’ history with these guys at most, not ten years. “How much does Coulson remember, do you know?” 

“He told Nat he put it all together last night. He thinks he might be getting fragments back, but mostly it’s something he knows because he read about it. Not because he remembers.” 

“Damn, that sucks.” Sam told him. 

Clint shook his head. “You’re not cheering me up, but I already like you better than the SHIELD behavioral medicine assholes.” 

Well, he wasn’t Hydra, for starters. 

“I think there are two questions you need to think about.” Sam allowed. “You shouldn’t try to answer them right now, and you don’t need to answer to me, ever. But you need to decide on the answers for yourself.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “The first is, do you, emotionally, FEEL that Coulson is responsible for any of this, or another victim of Fury’s games, along with everyone else.” From the look on Clint’s face, he thought Coulson was a victim, which was true, but that could be a hard thing to really believe deep down when you’ve been hurt as badly as this. “And another thing, one only you can decide, is what relationship do you want to have now?” Clint started to speak, and Sam held up a hand. “Not what you think is possible, not what you think Coulson wants, not what you think is best. What you WANT. Once you figure that out, we can talk about it and see what’s what.” 

Clint nodded. “Okay. What do I do in the mean time?” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“Get blackout drunk, but I’m not going to.” 

“Good answer. I would NOT want to answer to Natasha Romanov while hungover. So without the binge drinking option?” 

“Just… shoot. Targets, I mean. Poke around the ridiculous apartment Stark built for me. Fix stuff in my building – I own a place over in BedStuy. Check the sight lines here. Walk my dog. Climb the building. Kinda… exist? And let it all roll around in my head a while. The fact that he’s alive, that he doesn’t remember, what do I want, all of it.” 

That was probably what Sam would have recommended if he’d had to tell the guy to do something. Step one in emotional crisis management; sit down and take some deep breaths and chill out until you can think rationally. “Sounds like a solid plan.” 

“I can’t… I can’t see him yet.” 

“Also understandable. Live with it a while, give yourself a chance to get used to the new information. Maybe send a message through Natasha to Coulson, that you’re not angry at him but you’re getting your feet under you.” 

“Still wanna beat the shit out of Fury.” Clint mused. 

“I do not blame you one bit, but I think Natasha called dibs. I am not sure annoying her is how you want to finish out what’s gotta be a shitty day already.” 

Clint nodded, scooted the darts around on the table some more, took a sip of beer. “Think you can beat me at pinball?” 

Sam smiled. “Doubtful, but I’ll try.” Stark really built the best damn shrink’s office ever. No, he wasn’t telling him that. 

He was definitely getting the neon sign. JARVIS could hook him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this Hawkeye is mostly MCU Hawkeye with some Fraction Hawkguy thrown in. Hawkguy is damned amusing, but he's not terribly stable and I like the idea of happy Hawkeye.


	14. Lt. Colonel James "Rhodey" Rhodes, War Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boringish exposition chapter that's needed as foundation for a buncha other stuff in this 'verse.

It was Avengers and friends on the common floor for dinner that night. Team Bus had decided to have their meal in the common area of the floor Pepper had assigned them. Sam didn’t know if Natasha or someone else had run interference, but Coulson stayed with his brilliant youngsters. Which was good. Clint started breathing easy about half an hour in, and it seemed to Sam that everyone was trying to be kind to him in their own socially inept ways. 

They were finishing up the main meal when a sound much like a fighter jet started up and kept getting louder. “I’ve been asked to announce that War Machine is coming in for a landing on the terrace.” JARVIS told everyone. 

Heads lifted, and Sam followed their gaze to see a shiny silver kinda-Iron-Man armor with extra badass set down on the far point of the main floor’s outdoor deck. A ring lifted up, and the armor walked along toward the penthouse as mechanical arms rose and removed the armor, revealing an older black guy in a polo shirt and khakis. Holy shit, Colonel Rhodes. Sam hoped he didn’t embarrass himself; thankfully he’d been going easier on the drinking since yesterday’s excess. “That is so fucking cool.” Sam heard himself say. 

“Of course it is. I built it.” Stark replied, while getting up to greet his oldest friend. 

So much for the embarrassment thing. But damn. Stark really was a genius. 

Rhodes came in, hugged Tony, kissed Pepper on the cheek, and smiled vaguely at everyone else. Then he caught sight of Steve, and snapped to attention. “Captain Rogers. It’s good to see you, Sir.” Then he saluted. 

Steve leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, then rose and walked to the Colonel, grabbing a beer on his way. “Colonel, you outrank me for crying out loud.” he offered the beer. 

Rhodes relaxed and took it with a grin. “I know, I know, I can’t help it.” 

Steve shook his head. “Just a kid from Brooklyn, grew up to be a soldier. Like every other guy you serve with.” 

Rhodes looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t bear to disagree with Captain America. 

Sam decided to jump in; after all, he suspected he was going to spend a lot of time commiserating with Rhodes; anyone who was Tony Stark’s oldest friend had probably spent a lot of time feeling like the only grownup in the room, too. “Actually, Steve, you aren’t. You pretty much single-handedly desegregated the US Military.” 

“Oh, well-” Steve began. 

“No, you really don’t get it, buddy. You’re gonna say you were only doing what was right, huh?” Sam asked. 

“Well, yeah.” Steve answered like that was obvious. 

Sam nodded. “Right. What you don’t realize is that Captain America having a multi-cultural, multi-national group of commandos and thinking that was the normal status quo shamed every other white guy in the military into admitting you might have a point. Having that team turn out to be the most successful covert team they’d ever had didn’t hurt.” 

Steve looked at his feet. 

Everyone else was drifting back to the dinner table, arguing over dessert, and Rhodes walked up to Sam, held out a hand. “Wilson, right?” 

“Yessir.” Sam shook his hand, gave a cheeky grin. “But I’m not saluting.” 

“Don’t sweat it,” the colonel told him. Under his breath, he added “thanks for trying to explain it to him, I’ve tried about three times and had to stop because I was gonna squee and humiliate myself.” 

“I hadn’t brought it up before for the same damn reason.” Sam told him. 

“It really was the right thing to do.” Steve pointed out stubbornly. 

“Damn straight it was.” Sam agreed, and pulled him back to the table. 

Over crème brulee and the best chocolate cake Sam had ever had, Tony glanced at his friend and said “What’s up, Jellybean?” 

Rhodes had more cake. “After Insight, I made JARVIS promise to call me if you decided to put repulsors in anything other than your suit.” 

“I had not okayed that yet, Stark.” Sam told him. 

“Why use inefficient jet turbines when you can have repulsors?” Stark asked the table at large. Everyone looked unimpressed with his logic, except maybe Banner, who still wasn’t openly agreeing with him. 

“Jet turbines on what, Tony?” Rhodes asked. 

Damn, Sam was gonna have to rescue Stark. He hated that. “New wings for me.” Sam told him. “Though we were still in the design phase and hadn’t finalized any plans, last I knew.” 

To Sam’s utter shock, Rhodes relaxed and went back to eating. “Oh, that’s okay then.” Dude was concerned enough to fly to New York from who knows where to ask after the repulsor tech, but he finds out Stark’s giving it away to a crazy dude with wings and that’s okay? Wow. 

Since everyone was looking at him, damn it, he might as well start the next obvious conversation. “So. If I’m here in part to counsel people, I need to lay some stuff out.” 

Everyone turned their attention to him politely and waited, with none of the heckling anyone else got when trying to lead this group. Well, that’d probably change real fast. He hoped. After his VA groups he wasn’t so good with polite people. “According to Stark, I am here partly as air support, and partly as emotional support.” 

“We needed a shrink.” Stark told everyone. 

“Fuck you, Stark.” Sam replied without even thinking. 

Rhodey choked on his drink, and then hooted with laughter. 

“Here’s how it’s gonna go. I’m a counselor, not a psychologist. I can help you talk through your usual levels of dealing-with-life crap. I am NOT trained to handle actively out of control people and for that I will call in other Avengers and any psychologists we can find that we all agree on. Is this understood.” 

“Sounds good.” Steve said. Everyone else nodded. 

“Legally, I am covered by client privilege, the same as a certified psych doctor. I will not reveal your secrets. Not to outsiders, not to each other. Unless I think you’re having big problems, then I will pull in whoever I think is appropriate, though that will be limited to other team members and psych professionals unless something REALLY unexpected happens.” 

“You’ve also got Stark Legal behind you if you ever need it. And quite a few corporate psychologists working in different capacities, you can check them out and see if they work for you.” Pepper said quietly. 

“Good.” He hadn’t thought of that, but it was good news. “Thank you, hopefully we’ll never need it.” He looked around. Everyone seemed, well, cool with everything. “The usual place to draw the line in psychology is whether a person is a danger to themselves or others. Around here the distinction seems pretty ridiculous.” 

That did get some smiles. 

“So, we’ll have to make it up as we go along, but I’m still drawing the line somewhere around where control and trust get to be shaky. Are we good with this?” 

“Yes.” Steve said firmly. Everyone else echoed him in one positive way or another, nods being most popular. 

“I can do appointments, or you can come hang out with me and ease into things. The big issue here is that there’s going to be no professional distance, which is ethically a real problem.” He held up a hand as everyone grumbled. “I get it, you don’t want to talk to someone you can’t trust, or some clueless asshole who has no idea what your life is like.” That got some grins. “But the distance is still an issue. With that in mind, I’d like to make my apartment here a safe zone for myself. You are all more than welcome to visit me there, as friends. I want you to. But if you need anything in, shall we say, a professional capacity, use the office, the pub, or try to make some other arrangement that clearly defines the time as private.” 

He got thoughtful nods on that one. Other than pulling in the pro for major problems, him having personal space was the biggest problem Sam could see on the horizon. 

“So if I wanted you to join me for yoga in the mornings…?” Bruce asked. 

“I will be happy to, fall down a lot, have sore muscles for days, and JARVIS will lock down all security under your biometric lock and mine only.” 

Bruce smiled. “That sounds excellent. Well, except for you falling over.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure that’ll be pretty funny.” Sam replied. He looked around at everyone at the table, wondering how he’d come to care so much for this buncha nuts, so fast. “Are we good here? JARVIS is laying down the rules with the Bus gang for me. Same rules for them. And I’m gonna try not to push, but the more background I have on all you people, the more helpful I can be.” 

Everyone was good. Rhodey had the last word, though. “I think this is the most sensible thing you guys have ever done.” 

He was gonna like working with Rhodey. 


	15. Kate Bishop...also...Hawkeye?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So where’s Clint? He’ll need to hug his dog and I can act like a snotty teenager until he’s distracted. 
> 
> Sam liked this kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since today's extra chapter was kinda dry, have an extra extra chapter. Almost done with this fic, only three chapters left to write. 
> 
> Anyone got any idea what in hell to name this 'verse?

Saturday morning started much like Friday; Sam trying to drink some coffee in peace while Stark came bursting in, worried over an enraged woman in the lobby. Thankfully, this time Sam wasn’t hung over. “You ever rethink your life choices, Stark?” he asked, hunched over his mug and refusing to move. 

Stark paced. “Every fucking day. What? Why?” 

Steve, grinning, watched the show, shoveling in his usual enormous first meal of the day. 

“How often do enraged women show up in the lobby, demanding to see you or else?” Sam asked. “I’m sensing a pattern, here.”

Stark paused. “Not as often as you’d think. And this kid really wants to see Hawkeye, but her family knows mine and when she was told Feathers wasn’t available, she went straight to giving security hell, demanding to see me.” He waved his hands. “Last time I saw her was at her older sister’s coming out ball! Ten years ago! She was like six!” 

“You were drunk, weren’t you?” Steve asked around a mouthful of eggs. It was interesting, his ‘at home manners’ were definitely closer to Brooklyn Tenement than when he was anywhere the public could see him. So was his accent. 

“Well, yeah, but- Whose side are you on?” Stark demanded. 

“Sam’s. Definitely Sam’s.” 

Ha. Life was good. “Okay, let’s go talk to the enraged kid in the lobby. But I’m not breaking up any fights.” 

Steve went along because under everything he was still that sarcastic little shit from Brooklyn and couldn’t resist potential new blackmail material on Tony. Or a chance to poke at Tony. And Sam will not be thinking about that, no, nope, not his circus, not his monkeys.

The elevator doors opened and they had a sight line to nearly everywhere in the lobby. Nice side benefit of Stark’s paranoia. In the center of the room was a girl – young woman really, but damn, emphasis on the young – glaring at the security guard looming over her. Long, perfect black hair, purple tee shirt, ripped Levis, three hundred dollar cross-trainers. Floral tattoo on her left arm. She held a purple leash that was clipped to the collar of a large, beat-up, scruffy yellow dog who was seated next to her, his tail thumping the floor in a friendly way. 

“Bishop, quit harassing my security.” Stark led with, because he had the social skills of a dead hermit. 

“Fuck you, Stark.” the young woman answered easily. “What, you brought bodyguards?” she asked dismissively, glancing at Steve and Sam. “How much mayhem do you think I’m capable of? I think I’m flattered.”

“Nah, mostly we’re here to see Stark fall flat on his face.” Sam told her. That got him a squawk from Stark and a grin from the kid. Ah, connection. With bonus Stark outrage. Win-win.

“You are a lousy shrink.” Stark told him. 

“I am going to kick your ass.” Sam replied without even thinking about it. 

“Wow. This is even more entertaining than the cookouts in BedStuy.” the kid decided. She held out a hand toward Steve and Sam. “Kate Bishop.” 

They both shook hands and introduced themselves. Because their mommas raised them right. 

“I need to see Clint.” Kate informed them, completely ignoring Stark, who noticed immediately and was outraged. 

“Why?” Sam asked. 

“We were hanging out yesterday when he got a call. He looked worse than I’ve seen him since the Battle of Manhattan, and walked out without a word. I want to see if he’s okay.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at them. “IS he okay?” 

Well, damn. “Mostly.” Sam allowed. “C’mon, let’s have this discussion in the elevator.” 

Kate nodded and followed them, piling in. She was tiny; seemed about half Steve’s size when standing next to him, and didn’t seem intimidated in the least. “What’s going on?” 

“How well do you know Clint?” Sam asked, trying to figure out how much to tell her. On the way down, Steve confirmed that he had no idea who Kate was and had never heard of her before. Stark, while knowing her family, had no idea how Kate knew Clint or why she would care or know to head to the Tower to find him. 

Kate pulled off her sunglasses and hung them from the collar of her shirt. “I know where he lives.” She jerked her head at the dog, currently shedding on Steve’s jeans as Steve petted him. “We share a dog. We share a call sign.” 

“Ever heard of Strike Team Delta?” Sam asked. 

Kate went pale and wide-eyed. “Oh shit. Is Nat okay?” 

They all blinked at that. “Yeah, she’s fine.” Sam hurried to reassure her. “It’s Coulson.” 

Kate shut her eyes, shook her head. “Hell, what now?” 

“He’s not really dead.” Stark said quietly, watching Kate with his laser focus. 

“I am gonna shoot Fury in his eye.” 

Clint knew a lot of really interesting women, Sam decided. “I think Natasha already called dibs.” 

"SHE DID?" Stark demanded. They all ignored him.

“Dammit.” she muttered. “So where’s Clint? He’ll need to hug his dog and I can act like a snotty teenager until he’s distracted." 

Sam liked this kid. “JARVIS?” 

“Hawkeye is currently in the long distance target range.” JARVIS announced. “One moment.” The elevator slowed its upward movement, then after a second began going down again. Eventually the doors opened on a utilitarian-looking floor with a hallway and a couple visible doors. 

“Which one?” Kate asked. 

“On the left, it’s set up mostly for archery.” Tony told her. 

“Cool.” She clicked to the dog and they exited the ‘vator. 

“You want company?” Sam asked. 

“No, I’ve got it.” She turned back, grinned, gave a nod. “Nice meeting you, Cap. Falcon, I want to test fly the wings sometime.” 

She’d known all along who they were and didn’t care. Ha. “We’ll talk.” 

“We will.” she agreed, and went into the range. 

The elevator doors shut and they started to rise. “I think I like that kid.” Tony decided. 

“She’s got spunk.” Steve agreed. 

How many badasses could they cram into this tower before they hit critical mass? Or someone finally lost their temper and shot Stark? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow, Bucky!! AAAAAAAH! OUR MOST BELOVED WOOBIE! I'll be nice to him, I promise. Well, mostly nice. 
> 
> Kinda.


	16. Sergeant James Buchannan "Bucky" Barnes, longest serving POW in US history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha cut him off. “I haven’t shot him yet, I won’t if I don’t have to. I’ll even try not to kill him. But you do not know what you’re dealing with. I do. I come from the same monster factory he does.” 
> 
> Barnes backed away from Steve, hands held out at his sides again, back still to Natasha. He didn’t look around at her, but held unnaturally still. “Zdravstvuyte, Natalia. Sorry about shooting you.” To Sam’s shock, he grinned a little, and added “twice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, one of my favorite characters in the MCU. He's just so COMPLICATED.

It was after dinner, and most of the gang was sitting in the common area kicking around the idea of a movie, when the lights went dim, came up again, and JARVIS, in a completely different tone of voice than usual, announced, “Code Red, one block out.” 

Screens all over the tower (Sam learned later) flashed on an image from a security camera on 42nd of a vaguely familiar man walking. Black ball cap, unshaved scruff, longish hair, oh, shit. 

Sam stared at the screen. He didn’t think he was looking at The Winter Soldier, but he didn’t think that was Bucky Barnes either. Guy was still moving like a killing machine, but had ditched the tactical gear and bazillion firearms for jeans, boots, and a red henley. There was a black glove on his left hand, and no visible weapons. Which was not comforting in the least. 

By the time Sam had processed the information, most of the people in the room were gone. He looked up as Pepper took his hand, and they headed to the elevator at speed, leaving Betty Ross alone in the sitting area, watching the screen, hands gripped together. 

In the elevator, a screen was projecting a shifting image of Barnes as he walked toward the tower. JARVIS was going from one security cam to another to keep him in sight. 

The elevator dropped like a stone. Sam, used to flying without a plane, was still kinda staggering by the time they came to a halt. Pepper, in bare feet, yoga pants, and an ancient MIT tee shirt, didn’t so much as blink. Sam hoped to hell she didn’t get hurt in whatever was coming their way, but how in hell was he supposed to tell Pepper Potts to go sit in a safe room in her own tower? 

Everyone had beaten them to the lobby, somehow. He was gonna have to investigate that later. The standard security guards and off-hour receptionist were gone. May and Hill were standing together near the main elevator bank that served the entire building. Both were in civilian clothes, both were holding handguns. Hawkeye – Clint – was up on an exposed girder four storeys, at least, above the door, bow in hand, quiver on back, motionless. Kate, other Hawkeye?, also had a bow in hand, what? She was on the third floor balcony that wrapped around the atrium. The two archers together had every square inch of floor covered, as well as being able to cover each other. He began to see why Kate and Clint were buds, though he REALLY wanted the story of how they met. 

Banner – not Hulk – was holding ground on the atrium balcony as far from Kate as he could get. Probably waiting to see if Hulk was needed. Iron Man and War Machine stood on opposite sides of the lobby. Steve stood in jeans and a tee shirt, not even his shield in his hand, facing the door. 

Natasha was nowhere to be seen. Which meant she was somewhere with good sight lines, ready to rock. Probably with artillery, grenades, and a couple land mines. 

Sam left Pepper at the elevator (what did she think she was going to do? Not the time to argue, but he’d ask eventually) and walked over to take a spot just behind Steve. “What’s the play?” he asked, immediately getting the attention of every other person in the very large room. 

“He’s coming to us. We let him come.” Steve told them all. “He is to be taken alive, and as unharmed as possible. Meet force with force, avoid being harmed if at all possible, but for God’s sake, do not go on the attack.” 

There were scattered nods and ‘confirm’ noises. The lobby felt a lot like High Noon. 

“Any tells you can see, any idea what frame of mind he’s in?” Sam asked Steve under his breath. 

Steve shook his head. “Not really. But he was a sniper back in the war, and if he trained with the people who trained Tasha… if he’d wanted to attack, would he let us see him coming?”

Probably not. Sam hung on to that, praying this wouldn’t become a bloodbath. Maybe it was the intense events, but he’d come to care for this bunch of dysfunctional goobers a lot more than should be possible in two days of hanging out. 

“Are you armed?” Steve asked. 

He hadn’t even thought of it. There didn't seem to be a point. “Just the utility knife I always carry.” 

“Good.” Steve muttered, as the doors whisked open. 

Barnes – it looked like Barnes, there was light, awareness, in his eyes that Sam hadn’t seen during either fight in DC – walked in, rather casually for the circumstances. He shrugged out of a backpack and set it on the floor near the door, safely away from everyone. Without a word, he moved to the center of the floor, where everyone would have the best possible shot at him, got down to his knees, and put his hands on the back of his neck. 

There was silence. “Huh.” Sam heard someone say. 

“JARVIS?” Pepper asked calmly. 

“Scans indicate Sergeant Barnes carries no weapons, though his prosthetic arm could be classified as dangerous.” JARVIS told them. 

Shit, Sam thought, they were all dangerous, for crying out loud. 

“The backpack?” Pepper asked. 

“No explosives, no chemical or biological ordinance. Three handguns, all unloaded. Six knives. Personal effects.” 

Everyone seemed to relax ever so slightly, but no one looked away or lowered their weapons. They all looked to Steve. 

“Whatcha doing, Buck?” Steve asked in what Sam thought was a miraculously calm, easy voice. 

Barnes looked up, but otherwise stayed as he was. “Turning myself in.” 

“To what purpose?” Steve asked. 

“I’m tired of running and hiding, and any more Hydra bases I go after, I’m going to need help.” 

Sam laid a hand on Steve’s arm to silence him, and asked, “What do you remember?” 

Barnes’ eyes shifted to Sam, and took on a thousand-yard stare he’d only seen in the worst cases at the VA hospital. “Everything. I remember all of it.” He shifted his eyes back to Steve. “They had to wipe me a dozen times before I forgot you, punk. Though the shift in body size had me confused as hell for a few days while the memories came back.” 

After that it had to be hugging. Which Steve got to right away, jerking Barnes off the floor and holding on tight. While they were clinging to each other, Natasha walked in the door behind Barnes, one of her Brownings held steady in both hands and pointed at his head, clearly primed for a major battle. Unlike the rest of them, she was in her tac suit with full body armor. “Steve, when you’re done hugging it out, please move away.” 

Steve started to protest, and Natasha cut him off. “I haven’t shot him yet, I won’t if I don’t have to. I’ll even try not to kill him. But you do not know what you’re dealing with. I do. I come from the same monster factory he does.” 

Barnes backed away from Steve, hands held out at his sides again, back still to Natasha. He didn’t look around at her, but held unnaturally still. “Zdravstvuyte, Natalia. Sorry about shooting you.” To Sam’s shock, he grinned a little, and added “twice.” 

Tasha’s lips tightened and her eyes flickered a bit. “On your knees again, please.” 

Barnes obeyed, slowly enough not to alarm anyone, but clearly trying to cooperate. Everyone else was holding their breath. 

Natasha moved to one side – Barnes’ right side, opposite the prosthetic arm, gun still raised and pointed at Barnes’ head. “Iron Man?” 

“Go ahead, Widow.” Iron Man replied. 

“Scan the arm for reservoirs, open spaces. If you find them, try to identify what’s in them.” 

There was a long moment of utter silence and stillness. Sam glanced around the room, taking in everyone else and beginning to fully understand how six of these people stopped an invasion. And what he was becoming part of. 

“Two reservoirs, each about half full of liquid. Probably drugs of some kind. They’re not coming up as anything dangerous I’ve got scanners calibrated for, so it rules out explosives, bio and chem weapons. The way the arm’s… installed… there are several ways they could be pumped into his blood stream.” Iron Man reported. 

Natasha gave a half nod. “Still cooperating, Barnes?” 

“Da.” He replied calmly. He glanced over at Steve, who was visibly upset. “Don’t be angry, Stevie. She’s right. I’ve been a tool of nasty people for a long time. You need to be sure I’m safe.” 

Pepper stepped forward, unarmed, unarmored, fucking BAREFOOT, and stood in front of Barnes. Out of arm’s reach, but still way too fucking close, and between Steve and Barnes. “You swear you mean no harm to anyone in this building.” She demanded. 

“Yes ma’am.” he replied. Sam saw a glimmer of the charm from Steve’s stories of the old days, as well as a sharp assessment of this woman walking unafraid through guns and augmented humans to face down the world’s most infamous assassin. 

“We have a quarantine room for Hulk. It’s furnished and we’ll do what we can to make you comfortable. I give my word you will be treated as humanely and kindly as possible. It locks from the outside. Are you willing to stay there while we make sure you’re safe?” This was the power broker CEO Sam had never seen before. Wow. 

Barnes nodded. “Yes. What do you want me to do?” 

Pepper pointed to the private elevator they all used. “Get in the elevator. JARVIS will take you to the quarantine level. Follow his directions and let him lock you in.” 

“All right.” Bucky agreed. He rose slowly, hands held out again, and followed Pepper’s directions. 

Once he was in the elevator, everyone breathed again, then turned to watch the security footage on the large data screen in the lobby. On it, Barnes was seen getting off the elevator, walking down a hall, and into a large, mostly bare room with a bit of oversized furniture in it. A door swept shut, and JARVIS announced “Sergeant Barnes is now contained.” 

Everyone finally relaxed. 

Iron Man’s mask flipped up and Tony fucking Stark looked at all of them and summed it up with a succinct “Holy shit.” 

Natasha finally holstered her handgun, turned and spoke to Banner up on the balcony. “You, Stark, Ross, and FitzSimmons need to figure out how to get that arm off. It’s likely pumping consciousness-altering drugs into him.” Then she turned to Sam. “We also need to check him out for trigger phrases and implanted directives. You got any background on that?” 

Sam almost laughed. “Not even close.” 

“Damn.” Natasha grumbled. 

Clint dropped down next to them with no warning. “I know a guy who knows a guy. Got it covered.” 

Stark clunked over in his armor. “Does your guy know Charles Xavier? Because that’s who I’m calling in.” 

“As a matter of fact, yeah.” Clint confirmed. 

Oh good, bickering. They were back to normal, Sam thought in part of his mind, even as he boggled at meeting Doctor Charles Xavier, multiple PhDs in psych and education and rumored to be a mutant. 

“How do you know Charles?” Stark demanded. 

Clint shook his head, slung his bow on his shoulder. “You do realize at least half the staff of his school in Westchester was in the circus at one time or another. And look at me, The Amazing Hawkeye.” He struck a ‘ta da’ pose with an impressive level of sarcastic finger snaps and clicking heels. 

“Okay, I’m gonna need backgrounds on all y’all, because this is shit I need to know.” Sam told them. Circus? Mutants? The most famous alleged telepath in the world? And what in hell was up with Stark letting Pepper walk around in the middle of a standoff without even shoes on? 

Kate landed next to Clint. “You guys do realize Cap has taken off for the containment floor.” She had that world-weary, ‘OMG idiot adults’ tone down perfectly. 

Sam looked around. Banner, Pepper, May, and Hill were gone, too. “Crap. I gotta go do shrink stuff.” 

“HA!” Shouted Stark. 

“Go to hell, Stark!” Sam called over his shoulder. 

“I thought you didn’t have any background in brainwashing.” Natasha asked him. 

Sam shook his head. These guys. They were like puppies when it came to social skills. “I don’t. But helping people cope when their loved ones have gone through a major emotional trauma? Please. That’s what I DO.” 


	17. Rescue (Sam can't even, at this point.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I go by code name Rescue. If you ever need it.” She held out her hand, the one that had been on fire. 
> 
> Sam shook it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this'll be twenty chapters on the nose. Hope to have them all posted by Sunday night, and then the Clint/Coulson angst! 
> 
> WoobieWoobieWoobie!

Natasha went with Sam to the containment floor; Stark and Rhodey took off to go find Banner and work on arm removal. Both Hawkeyes poofed; Sam wasn’t asking though he hoped it wouldn’t involve him and Stark bailing anyone out of jail later. May was gone, briefing the Bus team, Maria Hill was at a monitoring station keeping an eye on the Hulk containment room, and Steve- 

“What in the fucking hell?” Sam asked. 

Pepper, standing next to him, arms crossed, gave a shrug. “He wouldn’t stay out, and if we have to, we can gas the room, knock them both out, and drag Steve to safety. Hill says Steve could hold him off long enough if that was necessary?” 

“I guess. Probably. Assuming idiot white boy actively defends himself.” He looked at the two men sitting in the bare room, sharing what looked like a really good steak dinner. Barnes was pretty focused on the food, but wasn’t wolfing it down as if he’d been starving. He was pausing to talk to Steve between bites. Though they couldn’t hear it. “No sound?” 

“He made us promise not to eavesdrop.” Pepper said. “I’ve got JARVIS monitoring.” 

“I think that’s Steve’s super power.” Maria told him dryly. “Getting people to do stuff they don’t want to.” 

Natasha made a sound of pure annoyance. 

Sam took on three helicarriers with a dusty old set of wings and two machine guns, for fuck’s sake. Before that was a kill squad including the Winter Goddamn Soldier with a utility knife. And he was moving to New York. And helping bring in an assassin who tried to kill him. More than once. Ugh. Sam waved his arms. “Fine, whatever, he’s gonna do what he wants and to hell with us, anyway. You got this for now?” he asked Hill. 

“Sure.” She nodded. He doubted there was anything much in the world Hill couldn’t got. Especially with Tasha for backup. 

“Right. Ms Potts, if I may have a word?” He gestured toward the far end of the room which should give them a decent amount of privacy. 

She gave him the side eye, but she went. When they got there, they turned to look out the windows (and avoid Barnes or the other two reading their lips). “Can I help you, Sergeant Wilson?” She asked with just the right tone of formality and power. Damn, she was something. 

“Remember what I said about needing background to be able to help people around here?” 

He got another side-eye power broker CEO look, but there was a glint of humor in her eyes. “Yes?” she asked innocently. 

Cute. “You walked into the middle of an armed standoff in bare feet and casual clothes. No weapons, no armor, no nothing. And Stark didn’t make a sound. Neither did Steve, or Rhodes, or Natasha. What in hell?” 

Pepper relaxed back into her everyday around the tower persona, looked out the window for a while. Sam waited. Finally, she sighed. “You remember all the press last Christmas, the place in Malibu getting blown up, Tony disappearing, me kidnapped, all that?”

“It was pretty hard to miss.” Sam said as gently as possible. Dammit, he did not want to open old wounds, but WALKING INTO AN ARMED STANDOFF. 

“I was held by AIM for about twenty-four hours,” she said softly. “Tony’s pretty good at rescues when he’s motivated.” She held one hand out in front of herself and it started to glow, and little flames licked up from her fingertips. 

Sam’s jaw dropped. “Am I the ONLY baseline human around here, for fuck’s sake?” he burst out. Maybe a little too loudly. 

“No.” Maria and Natasha said behind them. 

Pepper grinned a little and her hand… went out. “I’m pretty hard to kill, now.” 

“Good to know.” Sam said weakly. This was NOT the answer he’d been expecting. 

Pepper shrugged a bit. “After, Tony and Bruce fixed me up. They, with Steve, helped me learn to control it. We had a long talk about who did what around here, and, well.” She turned to him in full CEO mode again. “There were over a hundred Stark employees in this building tonight when Barnes walked in the front door. Thankfully it went the way it did, but he could have had a bomb, or worse. We didn’t have time to evacuate them. They were here, working late, entirely for me, in response to orders I give and policies I set. When it comes to Stark Industries, and the people we employ, I’m the one who makes the decisions. Tony and Steve are fully aware I will fight them to the wall, over it, and beyond, if I have to. Our agreement was that I’d stay out of everything except this. I never wanted to be a super hero, still don’t, really. But I will do everything I can to protect the people I’m responsible for. That definitely includes subduing assassins in the lobby while my people are in the building.” 

“You couldn’t have let me know before now?” Sam asked pitifully. He was good with all of it, even thought the division of power and command was smart, but damn, that woulda been nice information to have. 

Pepper grinned again, and Sam realized there wasn’t a different persona. The CEO powerbroker and the easygoing, kindhearted woman with freckles on her nose, and the apparently indestructible augmented human were all simply Pepper Potts. “I go by code name Rescue. If you ever need it.” She held out her hand, the one that had been on fire. 

Sam shook it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You cannot tell me Pepper Potts put up with the Merchant of Death AND Tony Stark in full playboy mode, and then got wilty at the idea of Iron Man and couldn't cope. No. Not buying it. I'm not a fan of Gweneth Paltrow, but Pepper Potts is my kinda people.


	18. Doctor Jane Foster, PhD and Darcy Lewis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman possibly smaller than Kate Bishop somehow slammed in through sliding doors and shouted “What in bleeding hell is your problem, Stark?” 
> 
> Sam inhaled some mimosa. Then he coughed. Steve whapped him on the back and he was off, laughing. Couldn’t stop. Steve was laughing too, which didn’t help. He looked up, and Betty caught his eye, gave a grin, and winked at him. And he was off again. 
> 
> “Fuck you, Wilson.” Stark grumbled.

Sunday morning brunch in the penthouse of Avengers Tower was something else. Sam had done brunch. In DC it was a way of life. DC could put on one hell of a brunch. But even the fanciest places Sam had been to were topped by the spread laid out in the dining room of the penthouse. “Wow.” Sam had to say. 

Pepper handed him a mimosa. “Given the metabolisms around here, I told the chef we were feeding a hundred.” She giggled a bit. “Poor woman’s been working for Tony too long; she didn’t even bat an eye.” 

Coulson and his crew got off the ‘vator then and Sam kinda stalled, not sure what to do. Clint wasn’t there, and the team needed to hang out for any kind of cohesion, but… 

It must have showed on his face, because Coulson gave one of his half-smiles that made him look so mild and friendly and told him “Clint said it was all right. We talked last night, after Barnes came in. But I can leave again if you think I should.” 

“Honestly, I think it’s good for everyone to be together, but didn’t want to push anyone into anything hurtful. We’ve all had enough of that.” 

Coulson took a plate and handed another to Sam before loading up. “Yes. I’m going to have to talk to everyone, a bit more formally later. But.” he gave a slight shrug, turned back to the buffet. “I can’t blindly follow orders. Probably not ever again.” 

“You came to the right place, because ordering these guys around has gotta be like herding cats. They barely even listen to Steve, and when they do it’s more the spirit of things than the letter.” 

He outright laughed at that. “Yes. I’d noticed that myself. Is Clint back yet?” 

“Back?” Sam asked blankly. The Hawkeyes had disappeared last night, but he thought they’d stayed in the building. 

Coulson looked a bit worried. “Yes. Stark and I sent Clint out on an… errand. I’m surprised he’s not back yet.” 

Oh great, more stuff to worry about. They sat down, surrounded by team and support and friends and a lot of REALLY good food. Steve, next to Sam, had a horrifying pile of food going and Sam knew he’d go back and get more. “Good to see you eating with us.” Sam tried not to be completely sarcastic. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Bucky made me.” He nodded and on one wall a screen showed a corner of the Hulk Tank, where Barnes was curled up on a couch, plowing through a plate as loaded down as Steve’s. 

Fucking technology. “Hey, Barnes.” Sam tried to say without squeaking or sounding terrified of a guy who’d kicked him off the deck of a helicarrier. 

Barnes looked up. “Hey. Wilson, right? Sorry about. Uh. Everything.” 

“No problem.” Sam said. Because what else could he say? Especially with Steve Goddamn Rogers glaring at him to be nice? 

Barnes kind of nodded, and held up a bit of something on a fork. “Anybody know what in hell happened to bananas?” 

There was a snicker, and Doctor Ross turned to the screen. “After you guys, uh. Well. While you were… gone, the species of banana you were used to had some major biological problems. The banana industry had to find a new type.” She smiled, truly beautiful, and a little ornery. “I can get you a book if you’d like.” 

Barnes’ eyes lit. “They write books about that stuff now?” 

“Yes.” Doctor Ross assured him after a blink of surprise. “Quite a few on botany written for regular people, I know some you might enjoy.” 

“Whenever you have a minute, that’d be great, thank you.” 

Sam glanced around the table to see if anyone else was having trouble getting their brain around this, but they were eating and chatting like this was the most normal thing in the world. Hell, for them it probably was. He’d seen the schwarma restaurant photos after the alien invasion. He needed to step up his game and quit flipping out every time things got surreal, if he was supposed to hang around here. 

Things were peaceful for a while, everyone eating and chatting easily, and Sam was starting to relax and feel like this was a really good place to spend a few years while he got his degree. 

A woman possibly smaller than Kate Bishop somehow slammed in through sliding doors and shouted “What in bleeding hell is your problem, Stark?” 

Sam inhaled some mimosa. Then he coughed. Steve whapped him on the back and he was off, laughing. Couldn’t stop. Steve was laughing too, which didn’t help. He looked up, and Betty caught his eye, gave a grin, and winked at him. And he was off again. 

“Fuck you, Wilson.” Stark grumbled. 

Sam was beginning to worry about oxygen intake, but he still couldn’t stop laughing. 

Clint trailed in behind the tiny fireball with another young woman, a bit taller than the first, much curvier, and headed straight for the buffet. They seemed to be talking about music. Neither so much as batted an eye at Stark practically being assaulted by a woman half his size. 

“What? HELP!” Stark yelped. “What is going on? I didn’t DO anything!” 

“You do realize,” the woman snarled, “I was working on SEVERAL major projects when your jack-booted thug came to drag us away.” 

“I don’t have any jack-booted thugs.” Tony said defensively, at the same time Coulson commented calmly, “I’ve never worn jack boots, Doctor Foster.” 

She spun to Coulson and literally growled. Sam was getting ready to get between people if a brawl started, and it looked like Steve was, too. On the screen, Barnes had quit eating and was watching everything with sharp eyes that missed nothing. 

“I’m glad you’re not dead, but if you try to confiscate my equipment again, you will be.” 

“Hey hey hey.” Clint spoke easily, sliding into a chair at the table. “No threats. We get pissy about that stuff. Also about being called thugs.” 

“I GET PISSY ABOUT BEING PULLED AWAY FROM MY WORK.” 

“Clearly.” Someone muttered. Foster glared, but couldn’t figure out who it was. 

“Yo, Boss.” The curvy brunette slid up beside Foster. “Eat. Your blood sugar’s in destroy mode.” She pushed Foster into a seat and a fork in her hand, dropping a plate of high protein food in front of her. The woman turned to everyone. “Hi. I’m Darcy. Lab assistant, and stuff.” She waved a hand vaguely, then turned to Coulson. “Glad you’re not dead, Secret Agent Man. You still owe me an iPod.” 

Rather than saying ANYTHING relevant, Stark shouted “NO. No iPods in my house! I’ll get you a StarkPlayer.” 

Darcy blinked at him a moment. “Cool.” She gave a shrug and went back to the buffet. 

Nope, Sam wasn’t gonna get over… any of this… any time soon. He went back to his eggs. 

Foster was scarfing food at a pretty impressive rate, but still talked around it. “What do you WANT, Stark?” She seemed to have chilled a bit after the blunt assessment from her lab assistant. 

Stark turned to Clint. “You didn’t TELL her?” 

Clint took a big swig of a beer he’d produced from somewhere and gestured with it. “Hey, I’m just a jack-booted thug. No one was gonna listen to my uneducated hayseed ass say shit. I told them their presence was required in New York pronto, on the order of Tony fucking Stark.” He turned to Coulson. “I figured you didn’t need another round of this after the last one in New Mexico.” 

“Thank you.” Coulson said evenly, sipping coffee. 

Foster had turned a bit red and dropped her eyes at Clint's comment, but after a pause she put her fork down with a precise click, and oh shit, someone was gonna have to break up a fight and Sam HATED wading into fights with girls because they were like rage tornadoes. “What.” she demanded of Stark, “am I doing in New York after practically being kidnapped out of New Mexico?” 

Everyone gave Clint narrow-eyed looks at that. He glared right back. 

Pepper finally took over. “Doctor Foster.” When the focus of the rage shifted to her, Pepper didn’t even seem to notice. “We’re VERY sorry you didn’t get an explanation. But we have major concerns for your safety, especially since you wouldn’t allow Stark Industries to assign any security to your research site.” 

“They get in my way.” Foster told her, excessively polite. "Why all of a sudden care now? It's been fine." 

"The SHIELD and Hydra war that went on over the Potomac last week? Suddenly a great many new factors are involved and until we sift through them all, you are much safer here." Pepper had an almost hypnotic soothing voice. Well, she was used to dealing with crazy geniuses. 

"What? Hydra?" Foster looked confused. 

"Do you ever watch the news?" Tony asked her. 

"No." 

From down the table Darcy called "Don't worry Boss, I'll explain later." Sam wondered how much 'and stuff' Darcy was doing beyond simple lab work. 

"So some World War Two assholes somehow show up and it's all of a sudden a big security problem? Haven't they been there for seventy years?" Foster asked in genuine confusion. Hoo boy. They had another Tony on their hands. 

Speaking of. Stark, being Tony fucking Stark, bluntly told her “We’ve got quite a few security concerns and none of us want to answer to Thor if we let you get your dumb ass killed.” 

Down the table, Darcy was choking on a mimosa. Sam so, so related. He got up and got her some water and an extra napkin. 

“So?” Foster snarled at Stark. 

“So now we do what we should have done two years ago. Move you and your minion (“HEY!” Darcy coughed.) into the Tower, under full security, and if you want to go to abandoned areas to do readings, a couple of us take you.” Pepper, deciding Tony had it in hand, apparently, shrugged and went back to her fruit salad. 

“And my lab?” 

“I have twenty of my best techs from Stark’s Malibu branch headed there now.” Tony told her. “They will pack up your rickety homebrew equipment and bring it here, where you can use it in a nice safe lab in the building while I build you stuff that actually works and isn’t held together with duct tape and rubber bands.” 

Foster threw her fork. Tony ducked it, and it bounced off the wall and hit the floor. He tried for outrage, but everyone knew what he was like when someone insulted the design of his suits, so he wasn’t getting much sympathy. 

“I think I like her.” Barnes said into the silence, from his couch in the Hulk Tank where he’d watched the entire drama unfold. 

Sam went to Stark’s bar and started making screwdrivers. The mimosas weren’t gonna cut it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and an epilogue to go. Will probably post them both tomorrow as people are requiring me to do this annoying thing called Real Life.


	19. Thor Odinson, prince of Asgard and protector of the nine realms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tis good our team has a wise man.” Thor intoned. 
> 
> It took Sam a second to realize Thor was talking about HIM. “No, nooo, you’ve got the wrong guy for wisdom. This should prove it, if nothing else does.” 
> 
> “Hmmm, yes.” Thor said, with a very shrewd look. “So the wise always say.” 

Sam spent the first part of the week at his condo in DC, packing things up, hanging with friends, supporting his vets and encouraging them to keep in touch. He was absolutely, utterly, completely infuriated that his condo felt like a tomb and everything seemed boring compared to the weekend he’d spent in New York. He’d had vague plans to spend a last weekend in DC, but the quiet was really getting to him. 

Thursday night he called Natasha on her cell phone. “Get in here and we’ll share a pizza.” 

“What?” Natasha said blankly. Oh, she was good. Like she wasn’t watching him through one of his windows right damn now. 

“I’m not a moron. I know you’ve been following me around all week to keep my fragile little self safe from the mean Hydra baddies I hadn’t already blown out of the sky. So get your magnificent backside in here and share dinner.” 

Two minutes later she let herself in his back door. “What’s with you?” she demanded. 

“I am really damned irritated to realize that the Tower now feels like home. Instead of my ACTUAL home.” Sam waved his arms around at the bare walls of his place. 

Natasha had the audacity to laugh. Because of course she did. “Yeah, they grow on you, don’t they?” 

“Like a damn fungus.” 

"Oh yes, mushrooms on the pizza."

Ugh.

…..-

Sam got back to Avengers Tower with Natasha on Friday afternoon. He’d insisted she ride the train with him like a normal friend type person rather than sneak around him like a damn bodyguard. He was annoyed that it felt like he could breathe more easily as soon as he stepped into the private elevator. 

“Still angry?” Natasha asked, not sounding very concerned at the answer. 

“Yes.” 

She laughed at him some more. She'd been doing it since the night before, glancing at him, grinning, and giving little snorts. 

In the common room, Clint came around a corner toward them at speed. “Hey, Nat. Sam. Thank god, you’re back.” 

That didn’t sound good. “Problem?” 

“Darcy and Bruce have asked me to join them on the roof tonight to try out Bruce’s latest marijuana hybrid. I was thinking we could probably use an adult.” 

Sam held his head for a minute and reminded himself he’d missed this place. And these people. For some goddamn reason. “What are we talking, here? Brownies and D&D, or hash-infused espresso and a high speed car chase?” What? His vets were very fond of medical marijuana and traded recipes. Wasn’t his fault he listened, he was their shrink. It was his job!

Clint made a shushing gesture. “Shit, don’t say that loud enough for Stark to get any ideas, for crying out loud.” He looked around like someone was physically eavesdropping and there wasn’t video and audio in every damned corner of the entire building for the AI running the place to see them. “Bruce has been breeding for, and I quote him here, ‘optimal mellow’. Darcy, apparently, knows quite a lot about hybrid marijuana and grow rooms, do not ask how. But Stark built Bruce some ungodly water pipe – vaporizer combination that allegedly makes it safe as houses and a nice, calming experience.” He looked around again, made sure no one else was nearby except for Natasha who couldn’t stop laughing, and whispered, “help.” 

Good thing he didn’t have any drug tests to pass any time soon. “Sure. What time is this happening?” 

“They said dark. Does it get dark in New York? I dunno, tenish?” 

“Let me know if the time changes. I’ll see you then.” Sam headed back to the elevator to find his apartment and see if his stuff was there yet. 

“Isn’t it good to be home?” Natasha called behind him, then burst out laughing again. 

….._

“I tried this when I was a tyke, for the asthma, and it didn’t work, so I don’t see how...” Steve said, holding the mouth piece to the… Stark called it a bongerizer. 

“Shut up and inhale, Steve.” Sam said lazily, looking up at the sky. He was laying on an expensive futon sort of deck furniture thing with Bruce, Clint, and Darcy, their heads all together in the middle, their bodies stretched out in opposing directions. 

Darcy giggled. “I never knew Captain America was such a wuss.” 

“Hey.” Steve said without heat. 

“Christ, now you’ve done it. He’s gonna eat a pound of the stuff to prove you wrong.” Clint told her. 

“You guys are harshing my buzz.” Bruce said placidly, staring up at the sky. 

They all shut up, passing the mouthpiece around. 

“Oh. Nice.” Steve suddenly said, out of nowhere. 

“Starting to work?” Bruce asked with a shadow of his usual scientist’s curiosity. 

“I think? It’s kinda like the whole world took a step back and got out of my space.” Steve took another hit, passed it on. 

Darcy pumped a fist in the air. “Fuck yes, I got Steve Rogers stoned. Where’s my medal?”

There were chuckles and the lapsed into silence again. 

Overhead, something brightened. “Ooo. Meteor.” Sam commented. He used to watch them in the desert, against the incredible backdrop of night sky. 

It kept getting brighter. “Noooooo.” Bruce said thoughtfully. “Only thing that bright would be a supernova. Or some kinda weapons test. Missile, maybe?” 

Sam considered getting nervous about that, but decided it didn’t matter much. 

Darcy lifted a hand to shield her eyes and looked up for a moment. “Nah. ‘S Thor.” 

“Thor?” Sam repeated. 

“Well, no, ‘s the Rainbow Bridge, whassit, Bifrost. Heimdall runs it.” Darcy waved. “Hi, Heimdall!” she called up into the sky. 

“Shit.” Clint commented, completely unconcerned. “That’s gonna make a mess.”

Darcy turned her head toward the shelter where the elevator was. “Yo, JARVIS my guy.” 

“Yes, Miss Lewis?” 

“Dude, you gotta quit calling me that. Tag Jane, wherever she is, tell her Thor’s gonna be here in five minutes. Ish.” 

“Very good, Miss Lewis. Shall I notify the other Avengers?” 

“Yes please, JARVIS,” Steve said, sounding annoyingly unstoned, the asshole. 

“I’m meeting my first space alien whacked out on hybrid weed.” Sam complained. 

“Mmm. Don’t use that term.” Bruce told him. “To Thor, WE’RE the space aliens.” 

“Good point.” Sam decided. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Clint said. “Thor’s a guy who appreciates inebriation.” 

Right then a massive beam of what felt like solid light slammed into the far side of the deck and spread outward in sparkling curves. Steve jumped up in alarm. The rest of them sort of leaned over, watching as the light etched symbols into the deck tiles. “What do the patterns do?” Bruce wondered. 

Darcy handed around a bag of Cheetos. “Thor told us they’re basically equations?” 

All of them watched in stoned silence (except for Steve, the asshole, who’d shaken the worst of his buzz, brushed himself off and smoothed his hair). Eventually a figure could be seen, apparently falling. And then Thor had slammed into the roof, hammer in one big fist. “My friends!” he called to them. 

“He’s wearing armor. And a cape.” Sam told Clint. 

“Don’t look at me, man, I’ve made him watch the Incredibles at least five times and he still wears the damn thing.” Darcy told them. 

For some reason Bruce thought that was hilarious, and Darcy joined in, and the next thing Sam knew, they were all tumbled together with Clint, laughing like lunatics. He was dimly aware that the rest of the gang had appeared on the roof and were greeting the Prince of Asgard, while he laid there and snickered. 

“Good stuff, then, Brucie?” Tony asked, leaning over them, grinning. 

“I think I got it right this time.” Bruce told him. 

“Tony, do not even THINK about it.” Pepper said from somewhere. 

Then Thor boomed “LADY DARCY!” and there was a squeak from her, and she was gone. Sam looked around blearily and Thor was hugging her. That was okay then. Thor made his way around, exchanging arm-clasps with ‘Honored Hawkeye’ and ‘Doctor Banner, my friend!’, and before he knew it, there was a gigantic Norse god looming over him, holding a hand out. 

Sam reached out and clasped his hand. “Hey. Nice to meet you. Sorry I’m not at myaaaaaah!” He was swept up and hugged. It was a lot like getting hit by a truck. Maybe being caught in a landslide. 

Finally, back on his feet, Thor said “Samuel Wilson! It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Me too,” he said weakly, trying to figure out which way was up. He dropped back and oh, good, cushions. Darcy and Bruce cuddled up against him. Clint was leaning heavily on Natasha, trying to explain something, and Steve looked perfectly fine, the asshole. 

“Tis good our team has a wise man.” Thor intoned. 

It took Sam a second to realize Thor was talking about HIM. “No, nooo, you’ve got the wrong guy for wisdom. This should prove it, if nothing else does.” 

“Hmmm, yes.” Thor said, with a very shrewd look. “So the wise always say.” 

And that was the last thing Sam remembered until he woke up the next morning on the roof, under a blanket with Darcy and Bruce. Clint was asleep on the ground next to their padded platform thing. Because of course he was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just popped into my head, fully formed, as how Sam meets Thor. No idea why but I rolled with it since the point of this was supposed to be humor.


	20. Epilogue: Hulk

It was the end of a really long day. Steve was limping, Stark was vowing that the next person who tried to get into the Tower, he would vaporize with lasers and be done with, and Clint and Natasha were propping each other up. Sam had just landed in the small park in front of the Tower where they all tended to meet after these sorts of things, and they gathered around and checked each other out for injury. Some old white guy in a black tac suit, holding a gun, walked over like he owned the place, and pointed the gun straight at Natasha. 

Clearly the guy was a moron and thought she was the weakest member of the team because she was a woman. Natasha slowly raised one eyebrow in a way that made Sam almost, but not really, feel sorry for Stupid Old Guy. 

Tony flipped up the face plate on the Iron Man armor and gave the guy a REALLY unimpressed look. “Seriously, Ross? What in HELL do you think this is going to accomplish?” Oh, so this was Betty’s dad, the former general. 

“I want to speak to my daughter.” he demanded. 

“She disowned you. She isn’t your daughter.” Sam told the guy. Because he’d done regular sessions with Betty and Sam kept the team’s secrets and so he wasn't saying anything but fuck him. 

The gun pointed at Sam. “You don’t know anything about it.” 

Sam was about to break one of his cardinal rules and argue with a stupid guy holding a gun, when about six tons of green rage showed up. He’d jumped from somewhere, and landed with a thud that literally rattled the Iron Man armor and Sam’s bones. Sam had seen him off and on during the figut, of course, but whoa, he was bigger than he looked from a thousand feet up. A lot bigger. And really, really pissed off. He was stalking over toward Stupid Old Guy when Betty rushed out of the Tower at a dead run and skidded to a stop between Hulk and Ross. Sam and Steve both moved to do… something, but Tony stopped them. “Don’t worry, Hulk won’t hurt her.” 

Well, yeah, but if he smashed Stupid Old Guy, it was gonna take them forever to clean up the mess. Sam thought about that a moment and decided the idea of Hulk pulverizing someone should upset him more than it did. 

Betty walked up to Hulk, held her hand out. “Stop, Hulk.” 

Hulk, thank the sweet baby Jesus, actually did. But he looked over her shoulder at her father, snorted in contempt, and said “puny”. 

Sam swore Tony was giggling. 

“I know.” Betty told him quietly. “But he’s my problem. Not yours.” 

“Make mine.” Hulk offered. 

Betty smiled at him, the same loving smile she gave Bruce. “But you don’t have to. I’ve got this. Okay?” she stroked her hand along Hulk’s cheek and damn if he didn’t lean into it. 

There was a rumble of what sounded like agreement from Hulk.

“Thank you.” Betty told him sincerely. She turned to face her old man. 

“Elizabeth, I demand you-” 

That’s as far as he got before Betty dropped him with a beautiful left hook. She’d been training with Natasha and had put her weight behind it. Stupid Idiot dropped like a stone. 

Hulk reached out and very, very carefully patted one finger on top of her head. “Nice.” 

“Thank you.” She rubbed her hand and looked like she wanted to kick her old man while he was down. “Can we put him in a cell somewhere?” She asked Tony. 

“Sure, he’s wanted by umpteen government branches and a couple overseas. We’ll hang on to him for them.” 

“Let us get this for you.” Clint offered, stepping forward with Natasha. They grabbed an arm each and started dragging Ross toward the Tower. Sam was gonna enjoy whatever Natasha did for revenge. 

He turned back toward the rest and WHOA. Hulk was RIGHT THERE. He should not be able to move that quietly. “Uh. Hi, Hulk.” 

He leaned down so their faces were level, and really took a good look at Sam. “Birdie.” 

Sam had talked to all the team members, kind of fascinated by the evidence of Hulk’s brain development, so drastically different from Bruce’s. It was all a lot more immediate now. “I guess I am. I have the wings and all.” 

Hulk nodded. “Good.” He held out one giant fist. 

“He wants a fist bump.” Tony explained, grinning. 

Sam cautiously bumped his fist. One of Hulk’s fingers was about the width of his entire hand. Tony whirred up beside him, exchanged fist bumps with Hulk, and clapped a gauntlet on Sam’s shoulder. “Congratulations. You’re now part of the team.” 

“Oh, good.” Sam said weakly, and congratulated himself on not passing out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Thanks for all the kudos and comments. 
> 
> I'm going to start working on the next fic in the series, but since I don't like publishing anything until I have about 3/4 of the chapters done, it may be a while.


End file.
